


Don't Let Me Down

by PrettiestStar17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Humor, Minor Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 17:25:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15845913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettiestStar17/pseuds/PrettiestStar17
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts has ended and The Dark Lord has been defeated. Harry is finally able to rekindle his relationship with Ginny and work on building a normal life. When He, Ron, and Hermione are given the chance to return to their beloved school, everyone is ecstatic, except for Harry. When the new Minister presents him with an exciting opportunity that's too good to pass up, Harry quickly accepts it. Will his friends be just as excited for him?





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Harry sat in the circular office, surrounded by a variety of new and familiar faces. To his immediate left sat Ron, clutching the hand of a trembling Hermione. To his right, Percy Weasley diligently sat, quill in hand, transcribing every word of the ongoing conversation. Across from him, sharing the now Headmistress’s desk, were Minerva McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Several other ministry officials occupied conjured chairs, silently taking in the testimony of the three teenagers before them. The subjects in the portraits of former Hogwarts Headmasters, who usually feigned slumber during serious discussions, were bright-eyed and reveling in the tales of the past year.  
  
Two portraits played a very integral part in helping the trio tell their story. Former headmasters Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape helped in confirming facts that would otherwise seem outlandish and impossible for a teenager to accomplish. They also shared their own knowledge at parts of the story where Harry was only able to speculate.   
  
Harry slumped back in his own chair, after having painstakingly relived the evening that they had narrowly escaped Malfoy Manor. Professor Dumbledore gave him a comforting smile and nod, his blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles. They were concluding the third and final day of questioning.   
  
“Harry,” Kingsley started, “I understand you’re carrying a heavy burden at the moment, but I don’t want you to feel like you need to defend the Malfoys. They are all intelligent and highly skilled wizards. There was no confusion on their part when they pledged their loyalty to Lord Voldemort.”  
  
Harry sighed and nodded. “I understand Minister, and I hope that you don’t confuse my moment of pity here for compassion. I certainly don’t think they should be let off the hook for their crimes, but possibly some leniency in their punishments. This last year, possibly two, I truly don’t think they stuck by Lord Voldemort’s side out of want, but out of fear. Fear, as we have learned, can compel great men to do terrible things.” Harry muttered the last sentence, attempting to avoid Dumbledore’s gaze. It did not, however, escape Dumbledore’s ears.  
  
“I don’t think truer words have ever been spoken by someone so young,” the former headmaster acquiesced, with another humble smile.  
  
Harry glanced up, relieved, and gave him an appreciative nod. He blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding and added,”Plus, Mrs. Malfoy saved my life on Saturday evening. Even if it was for purely selfish reasons on her part, I wouldn’t be sitting here today without her.” Harry gently touched the spot on his chest where Voldemort’s second, unsuccessful killing curse had landed. Still quite tender to the touch, Madame Pomfrey couldn’t confirm how long the visible bruising would last but was certain that over time it would fade.  
  
Kingsley nodded in understanding and asked no more. “I can’t make any promises as to what their punishments will be. They, of course, will have to stand their own individual trials, but we will certainly call upon your testimony to help the Wizengamot make their final decisions.” He shuffled through a few pieces of parchment on the desk, murmuring and pointing out a few bits to Professor McGonagall, who nodded curtly in agreement. “Well then,” Kingsley’s smooth baritone voice announced, “Unless you fine gentlemen and ladies have anything further to discuss, I think we can satisfactorily conclude our inquiry.”   
  
“Thank Merlin,” Ron whispered. Hermione let out the sobs she had been holding in since describing her torture under Bellatrix Lestrange and buried her face in Ron’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and murmured soothingly into her hair.  
  
The other ministry officials echoed their agreement and stood at once. One by one, they shook Kingsley’s hand and quickly strode to the fireplace, loudly declaring their destinations and vanishing in a whoosh of green flames. Kingsley himself gathered up his quills and parchment pieces, then gestured for Harry to join him as he walked to the grate.  
  
“I know this was difficult Harry, but we all very much appreciate your cooperation. Ron and Hermione’s also, of course,” Kingsley said, as he reached out to shake Harry’s hand. “I can imagine that the only thing on your mind right now is a hot meal and warm bed.”  
  
Harry gave a weak smile as he grasped the Minister’s hand. “They definitely top the list.” Harry let the face of a comforting, fiery redhead float through his mind for a split second before Kingsley interrupted his thoughts.  
  
“Professor McGonagall will only keep you three a few moments longer to discuss a couple of things. I’d like to talk to you though, privately, about some options for your future.” Kingsley scooped some floo powder into his fist and stepped into the hearth. “Expect to hear from me in June.” He gave Harry one last smile before booming, “Ministry of Magic!” and disappearing into the flames.  
  
“Right, Mr. Potter, can you rejoin us please,” Professor McGonagall called from her desk. She vanished the extra chairs and motioned for Harry to reclaim his. Harry sat back down beside Ron, who was still holding Hermione against his chest. Her sobs had transitioned into hiccups and sniffles. With 2 flicks of her wand, McGonagall conjured a goblet of water and handkerchief. “Here you are Miss Granger,” she said gently, as she floated the items across to Hermione.  
  
“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione squeaked, between hiccups. She took a sip of water and blew her nose. After a few deep breaths, she was able to relax back into her chair.   
  
“As Kingsley said, I promise not to keep you all much longer,” Professor McGonagall started. “I just wanted to inform you that Hogwarts will be extending invitations, to all the current seventh years, for the chance to repeat their final school year and sit their N.E.W.T.s. I hardly consider this year an example of a well-rounded education,” she added with a huff. “It, of course, is not mandatory. You’re all of age and free to choose your own paths for the future, but I wanted to let you know that if you so choose, Hogwarts will gladly welcome you back for another year.”   
  
Hermione’s face brightened at this news. Harry knew that her mind was whirling with the idea of returning to school and securing her N.E.W.T levels. She started to get a bit flustered as thoughts and questions raced through her mind. “Really Professor?!” Professor McGonagall smiled and nodded. “Wow, this is wonderful news!” She looked over at Ron and Harry, grinning, and started shaking Ron’s arm “We get to have one more year in the castle!”  
  
Ron gave her an obligatory grin, but Harry could tell the thought of N.E.W.T. exams made his stomach churn. Almost on cue, Ron clutched his middle and attempted to suppress a groan as he replied, “Yeah, brilliant, thanks, Professor.”  
  
Professor McGonagall gave another nod and stood up. “Take some time to rest up and think about it. You don’t need to decide here and now. But you can expect to receive your letters and list of supplies in about a month or so. You can reply with your decisions at that time.” She walked around to the front of her desk as the three of them stood up. In a surprising move, she swooped in and gave each one a tight hug. “Thank you for all you have done and sacrificed. The wizarding world will not soon forget it. I’m so proud to call you Gryffindors.” Her eyes glistened as she beamed at them and smoothed a wrinkle in her robes.   
  
Harry instinctively looked up at the sword of Godric Gryffindor, gleaming in its case. As he looked away, Dumbledore caught his eye. The headmaster gave him a final smile and wink. Harry smiled back and followed Professor McGonagall to the fireplace.  
  
“Go on now,” the headmistress instructed. “Get some well-deserved rest.”  
  
One by one, they grabbed a handful of floo powder. Hermione stepped into the fireplace and called out, “The Burrow!” Once she had made her exit, Ron followed. As soon as the fireplace was empty again, Harry took his turn. His last vision was Professor McGonagall smiling proudly at him, tears streaking her cheeks. Within seconds, he was spun furiously until the headmistresses office melted into the sight of the Weasley’s kitchen.   
  
As he stepped out of the grate, Harry noticed Ginny sitting at the table, bundled up in a faded purple robe, greeting Ron and Hermione. The moment she noticed Harry, brushing soot off his jeans, she flew out of her seat and wrapped her arms around him. He gratefully pulled her into him and just held her, burying his head in her hair. He felt like he could have stood there all night, holding her in his arms….making up for lost time. He finally made himself give her a gentle squeeze and slowly stepped back, letting his hand linger for an extra second on her hip.   
  
“What time is it?” Harry asked, as he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. The scene out the window, above the sink, showed a black velvet sky, dotted with a crescent moon and stars. Between trying to fight off nightmares in order to gain a moment of sleep and sitting for lengthy ministry inquiries, dates and times had become an illusion.  
  
“Eleven-thirty,” Ginny whispered. “Wednesday night,” she supplied, as Harry’s face contorted, trying to do his calculations.   
  
“You should be asleep,” Harry said, reaching out and squeezing her hand.  
  
“I couldn’t sleep without knowing you three were back safely,” Ginny replied. She returned the hand squeeze and gave him a tug towards the stairs. “Come on, mum set up Percy’s old room for you. Hermione, I believe she set up Bill and Charlie’s room for you.”  
  
Harry nodded and let her guide him up to the second floor. Ron escorted Hermione up two more floors to Bill and Charlie’s old room. Harry lingered at Percy’s door and turned to face Ginny, who was still holding his hand. “It’s…..I….” Harry stumbled over words, trying to figure out how to turn his thoughts into sentences.  
  
Ginny smiled and shook her head. “I know,” she whispered. She brushed a light kiss over the top of his hand and then made her way down to her bedroom, on the first floor.   
  
Harry let himself into Percy’s room and quietly closed the door, relieved when it uttered no loud creaks. He stripped down to his boxers, placed his glasses on the nightstand, and crawled under the warm quilt. He lied there, staring at the ceiling, wrestling with the thought of how he was going to tell the others that he had no desire to return to Hogwarts.


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone Harry seemed to come in contact with during the following week echoed the same, cliched sentiment- “Get some rest, you deserve it.” But that first week back in The Burrow was anything but restful. Harry made it a priority to attend every funeral and memorial service his schedule would allow. The decision made him question his sanity, but he felt obligated to honor those that had fought and died on his behalf.  
  
Harry attended Remus and Tonks’ funeral with the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix. The couple was laid to rest together, aside Tonks’ father, Ted. Tonks’ mother, Andromeda, sat alone, trying to calm a very fussy little Teddy Lupin on her lap. She struggled to quiet him as the minister started the service.  
  
“May I?” Harry whispered, holding out his hands toward the infant. Andromeda gave him a grateful smile and handed the baby to him, along with a blanket and bottle. Harry carried his godson to the back of the crowd. He never had much contact with babies, let alone held one, but comforting the little bundle came instinctively. He gently bounced Teddy and offered the bottle. Harry was pleased to see him accept the milk and smiled down at the child in wonder.   
  
Teddy had Remus’ eyes but had obviously inherited his mother’s Metamorphmagus abilities. Harry softly laughed as Teddy’s hair changed from a bright turquoise blue to powder pink, and then back again. As the baby relaxed on a full stomach, his hair color settled to blue and he dozed off. Harry silently promised Teddy that he’d grow up knowing how amazing Remus and Nymphadora were and that Harry would try not to be a disappointment in his role of godfather. At the end of the service, Harry handed the slumbering infant back to Andromeda, who promised come to The Burrow for Sunday dinner, week after next.  
  
Ginny accompanied Harry to Colin Creevey’s, having been in the same year. But for Severus Snape’s, Harry insisted that he was fine to attend solo. He could see that none of the others really wanted to go, and he couldn’t blame them. He had told them all about the memories he had witnessed in the pensieve, and, while they acknowledged that the war wouldn’t have been won without him, their personal memories of the potions professor were still too bitter.   
  
Harry disapparated from The Burrow under a clear blue sky. When he appeared at the Spinner’s End Cemetery entrance, he was met with a steady drizzle that would soak his hair and robes by the time he made this way to the grave site. He wasn’t surprised to see only a smattering of people gathered around. The small group turned upon his arrival and Harry was suddenly aware that the only other people there were the Hogwarts professors. Professor McGonagall gave him a knowing smile and beckoned him under that small black canopy. He joined her side for, what Harry was sure had to be, the briefest funeral service ever held.   
  
The final funeral, and by far the hardest, was Fred’s.   
  
Harry’s heart broke for his adopted family as he watched them painfully plan out the details. George was a silent witness through the ordeal, faintly nodding in agreement when Molly or Arthur asked his opinion. The only words Harry could remember hearing him utter in those blurry days were when Arthur proposed adding an inscription to the headstone. Molly had started to offer possible quotes, but George cut her off and said, firmly, “Mischief managed.” He sunk back against the chair and mumbled softly, “That’s what he would want.”  
  
The day of, Harry dressed in a set of dark green dress robes and made his best attempt at taming his unruly black hair. After a few minutes, he deemed his attempt unsuccessful and went to seek Hermione’s help. He found her in Ron’s room, on the fifth floor, helping him straighten his black dress robes. She was wearing a long, billowy black dress, with a white shawl covering her shoulders. Ron looked up as Harry entered his room and tried to smile, but it came across as more of a grimace. Harry ventured a comforting smile, trying to hold himself together at the sight of Ron’s wet, bloodshot eyes.   
  
“Hey, Hermione,” Harry greeted mildly. “Do you have anything in your arsenal that might bring this under control?” Harry asked, waving his hand over the top of his head.  
  
Ron snorted and gave a hoarse laugh. Hermione patted Ron’s now straightened collar and turned to Harry with a weak smile. Harry couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were also red and streaked with tears. She nodded and sifted through a bag on Ron’s nightstand. She walked over to him with a tube of gel and a comb. “Would you like me to fix it for you?” Hermione asked.  
  
“You’re a saint for trying,” Harry sighed, sitting down on Ron’s desk chair and taking off his glasses. Hermione started working the fruity smelling gel through his hair and then combed it down so that it was lying flat and across the left side of his head. Harry glanced in the mirror and breathed out in relief. “Much better, thank you.” He grasped her hand briefly and said, “I’ll see you guys downstairs then, yeah?”  
  
Ron nodded and Hermione replied, softly, “We’ll be down in a few minutes.”  
  
Harry made his way downstairs and was met with the same somber, red-eyed faces in the kitchen and sitting room. George sat in an armchair, in the corner, his face pale and directed at the ceiling. Molly was in the kitchen, half-heartedly trying to get anyone to eat something from the plethora of breakfast foods heaped on the table. Arthur looked like he was forcing himself to read the Daily Prophet, every now and then pausing to take a sip of tea. Ginny sat beside her father, poking aimlessly at a pile of scrambled eggs.   
  
Harry couldn’t help but stop in the doorway for a moment and take in how simply beautiful she was. Her red hair had been curled and yellow daisy clips held it away from her face. She wore a black sundress, with yellow daisies lining the bottom hem, that fell just below her knees. The sight allowed him to breath easy, if only for a few moments.  
  
Finally realizing that she was being watched, Ginny looked up and smiled warmly at Harry, patting the chair beside her. Harry accepted the seat and an instant later was presented with a plate and a cup of tea. “Please, eat something Harry, dear,” Molly encouraged, gently patting his arm and dashing back to the oven.   
  
Harry wasn’t very hungry but pulled a piece of bacon onto his plate and started spreading strawberry jam onto a slice of toast. He started nibbling on the toast as Ginny leaned in and whispered, “Baking is her escape.” Harry nodded knowingly and slowly ate half his toast. He had just picked up his bacon when Ron and Hermione came into the kitchen.   
  
They took the seats across from Ginny and Harry and were immediately given plates and tea. “Eat up,” Molly prompted. Ron plucked a scone from a pile and started pulling bits off, but none of them made it to his mouth. Hermione took a slice of toast and bit off a corner, chewing slowly and glancing around the room.   
  
A sudden sigh made them all turn. Arthur put down his paper and said, “Molly, darling, please heed your own advice and eat something. You’ve been bustling about in this kitchen all morning. We could invite all of Devon for breakfast and still have leftovers.”  
  
“I still have so much to do Arthur,” Molly quickly replied. “After the….um…well, this afternoon we have so many people coming over. I need to make sure we’re ready. Lunch will need to be prepared, tables set up, places set…”  
  
Arthur rose from his seat and walked over to pull his wife into a tight embrace. At that moment, Bill and Fleur walked in the back door. Fleur kissed Molly’s cheek and set about helping with the unspoken kitchen duties. Bill kissed his mother’s head and gave his father a pat on the back before joining George in the sitting room. Molly softly wept into Arthur’s chest as he stroked her hair. Harry’s heart felt like it was going to rip in half. He gave Ginny’s hand a gentle squeeze, vanished his uneaten food, and dropped his plate in the sink as he hurried into the garden.   
  
Harry quickly crossed the yard to the stone boundary wall, sending a few gnomes scampering in his wake. He leaped over the wall and sat on the soft grass, with his back pressed against the jagged stones. He took several, slow, deep breaths, in a vain attempt to control his breathing and not hyperventilate. Something about Molly not being able to say 'funeral' sent him into a downward spiral. He didn’t want to crumble in front of the family. They already had so much to deal with and worry about, he didn’t want them to think they had to fuss over him also. The day was going to be hard enough as it was, without him turning into a puddle of emotions.  
  
He heard a flutter of activity in the house and guessed that they were all getting prepared to depart for the cemetery. Harry took one last deep breath and was just climbing back over the wall when the family started filing out the back door. Harry noticed Charlie had joined the flock and gave him a polite wave as Ginny strode over to Harry’s side, fastening her traveling cloak around her shoulders. He was a bit surprised to see she stood eye level with him. He glanced down to see a pair of black pumps adorning her feet. She clutched his left arm as he pulled his wand from his robes with the right. Arthur surveyed the group, slipped his hand into Molly’s, then gave a curt nod. Almost in unison, the rest of them took a deep breath, spun on their spots, and disapparated.   
  
They instantly reappeared a mile across the village, in front of a kissing gate. Ginny stumbled a little and tightened her grasp on Harry’s arm to steady herself. She blew a few strands of hair from her face and looked up at Harry. He gave her a puzzled look and she whispered, “What?” Harry jerked his head slightly towards the kissing gate.   
  
The gate was rusted and ancient looking, with a big chain and padlock barring their entrance. Harry didn’t understand why they would want to enter though. The grass behind the gate was overgrown and laying waste to the crumbling headstones and monuments. The path leading up to the gate was lined with old, gnarled oak trees that cast shadows over the entire cobbled ground. Harry was sure they had come to the wrong cemetery. Surely no one had been laid to rest here in over a century.  
  
Ginny pointed to her father and whispered, “Just watch.”   
  
Harry looked over at Arthur as he strolled up to the gate with Molly. Both held their wands out and walked straight through the gate as if the metal bars weren’t there. The others quickly followed their lead and Harry realized that this must solely be a wizard cemetery, outfitted with Muggle-repelling charms. He felt Ginny’s elbow gently nudge his side, urging him forward. Together, they lifted their wands and walked through the gate, behind Ron and Hermione.  
  
A sudden rush of cool air and they emerged on the other side. The shadows gave way to a bright blue sky, adorned with puffy white clouds. Gone was the overgrowth and dilapidated headstones. Instead, there were grand Marble statues jutting out of the lush green earth, paying tribute to various witches and wizards. Scattered around were smaller, granite stones of all shapes. Some were engraved with moving pictures of the deceased. Many were outfitted with torches of eternal flames. On the far north side of the graveyard, Harry spotted what seemed to be a dozen large stone sheds.   
  
As if reading his mind, Ginny pointed to the buildings and said, “Tombs of the noble wizarding families.”   
  
Harry swallowed hard and nodded. He had only had one other experience in a graveyard, and he tried to push that experience into the far corners of his mind as he followed the family to a sparkling white tent that was covering two small sections of chairs. Ginny led Harry to the front row and he sat down in the far right, corner seat. Ginny sat down on the chair to his left, with Hermione, Ron, Percy, and George completing their row. Across the aisle, Bill, Fleur, and Charlie took their seats, leaving the two closest to the center for Molly and Arthur. The final seat in the first row was reserved for the twins’ best friend, Lee Jordan.   
  
Molly and Arthur stood in the back of the tent to greet family and friends that had come to pay their respects. First to arrive was Aunt Muriel. She hugged Molly and Arthur then quietly made her way to a chair in the second row. Ginny got up from her seat to go give her aunt a hug. Harry sat and watched as more people poured into the cemetery. It quickly became apparent that the family underestimated how many people Fred’s life had touched.  
  
Harry marveled as what appeared to be the whole of Hogwarts filled up the chairs under the tent. Students, teachers, even Argus Filch, dressed in their best robes, turned up to say a final goodbye to one of Hogwarts’ most legendary pupils. Mourners soon outnumbered the chairs and people started filing around to the sides of the tent. Some conjured their own chairs, while others just stood solemnly by.   
  
“ ‘ello ‘arry,” a gruff voice spoke from beside him. Harry gasped and quickly turned to his right. He had been so focused on watching people arrive, he hadn’t noticed Hagrid sidled up beside him. “Ya alright?”  
  
“Hey Hagrid,” Harry said breathlessly, feeling his heart regain a steady rhythm. “Honestly, I’ve had easier days. It’s good to see you though. I know it means a lot to Molly and Arthur to be surrounded by so many people that loved Fred.”  
  
“Good kid, he was. Nevr’ failed ter make me laugh.” Hagrid waved to Ron and Hermione before giving Harry’s shoulder a pat and made his way to the back of the group of people along the side. For Hagrid, it was meant to be a gentle and comforting pat, but it nearly sent Harry flying off the seat. As he righted himself, Ginny returned to her seat. Harry straightened his glasses just in time to see an owl fly into the tent and drop a rolled up piece of parchment into George’s lap.  
  
George unrolled the parchment, scanned it for a few seconds and swore. While his choice word wasn’t loud, the group was quiet enough that the sudden profanity turned many heads. George didn’t notice. Fresh tears spilled as he got up and stalked to the back of the tent. Bill and Charlie scrambled out their seats to follow him. Hermione gave Ron a look. He nodded, prodded Percy, and they made their way to the back of the tent. Ginny and Hermione exchanged questioning glances, but said nothing and kept their eyes glued to the back of the tent.   
  
Harry made a point of studying a dandelion popping out of the ground, between his feet. He was concentrating on keeping his breathing even when Ron appeared at his right side.   
  
“Hey mate, can you come back with us for a mo’ “ Ron mumbled.  
  
“Sure,” Harry answered. Ron started walking back. Harry shrugged his shoulders at Ginny, but got up and followed his friend to the group of Weasley men huddled together.  
  
Arthur looked up at Harry and gave him a regretful smile. He was holding the piece of parchment that was just delivered to George. “Harry, son, I hate to burden you, but we’ve encountered a last minute change in plans. Lee was supposed to be our sixth pallbearer, but we just received word,” Arthur held up the parchment in explanation, “that he will be unable to attend today. I know it’s a bit much to ask last minute, but would you consider filling in for him?”  
  
Harry gulped and tears stung his eyes. He chanced a glance at George, who was standing with his mother, silently shaking hands with the final guests. Ron had told him earlier in the week that George had been adamant about not being a pallbearer. No one fought or pushed for him to change his mind. When asked, Lee Jordan accepted the role, saying it was the least he could do as a final honor to his friend. It seemed now, though, that the reality was too much for Lee to handle.  
  
Harry nodded, swallowing again in an attempt to find his voice. “Of course I will,” Harry said, his voice strained as he willed his tears not to spill. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”  
  
Arthur reached out and pulled Harry into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” he whispered. “George is angry, obviously. I don’t think so much about Lee bailing, but the thought of having to fill that role. He’s not coping very well at the moment.”  
  
Harry patted Arthur’s back. “I understand Mr. Weasley. As I said, whatever you need.”  
  
Arthur gave Harry’s back two firm thumps and released him. He took a deep breath and turned around. “Here we are then,” Arthur muttered. He hurried over to Molly and whispered in her ear. Her face went ghostly white as she looked up.   
  
Harry followed her gaze to a small gravel lane. A horse was slowly pulling a covered carriage towards them. It stopped a few years away from them and the driver climbed down to start pulling back the deep purple curtains on the carriage. Harry saw the mahogany casket and took a few steps back. The family started walking to the carriage. Harry walked back up through the tent, to Ginny.  
  
“Come with me,” he said gently, holding out his hand. She hesitated, a knowing look washing across her face. She cleared her throat and took Harry’s hand, standing up and smoothing out her dress. Hermione looked up at him, with a rather put-out look. Harry bent down closer to her and said hoarsely, “He’s here. If you’d like to come back for Ron, but I think they want to have a private moment before the ceremony starts.”  
  
Hermione nodded and motioned for Fleur to follow along. Harry walked with Ginny back up the aisle and down to the carriage. He slipped her hand from his to Charlie’s and made his way back to the tent entrance, to stand beside Hermione. After a few minutes, Bill, Ron, and Fleur made their way back up, Hermione ran to Ron and hugged him tightly. Harry could see his best friend all but collapse in her arms and sob as they held each other and rocked back and forth.   
  
Ginny and Charlie joined them moments later, quickly followed by Percy. Ginny nestled into Harry’s side and wrapped her arms around his waist. Molly and Arthur took their time at the carriage. When they returned to the tent, George stood alone at the carriage. Molly cried softly as she watched him place his hands on the casket and bow his head.   
  
“Why don’t you girls take your seats,” Arthur suggested. “The minister is here and we’ll be starting the ceremony very soon.”  
  
Ginny let go of Harry and took her mum’s hand, guiding her back up the aisle to her seat, Hermione and Fleur following. Harry followed the others back down to the carriage and awaited his instructions.  
  
Arthur clasped a gentle hand on George’s shoulder and said, “It’s time, son.”   
  
George nodded, gave the casket two quick taps, and whispered, “ ’Til we meet again Freddy,” before hurrying back to the tent.  
  
“Right,” Arthur said, looking around at the remaining men. “Percy and I will take the front, Bill and Charlie in the center, Ron and Harry in the back.”  
  
Harry scurried into position as the casket was slid from the carriage, onto a floating board. From there, on Arthur’s count, Harry lifted it over his left shoulder. Slowly, they carried their brother…son…friend…to his final resting spot.  
  
It was a beautiful and simple ceremony. The weather couldn’t have been more cooperative. Both Bill and Arthur stood up to give humorous, yet heartbreaking eulogies. The minister delivered an inspiring service about how death is not the end, but the beginning of yet another grand journey. Harry smiled at the sentiment, reminded of Dumbledore telling him something very similar.   
  
As the service started drawing to a close, Harry peered down to the end of their row of chairs and was worried when he saw George’s empty chair. He went to whisper something about it to Ginny, but at that moment the minister called the family forward and she stood and moved to stand beside her mother. The casket started to lower and the minister invited each of them to take a white rose, to toss into the grave. The family accepted, with Molly and Arthur simultaneously tossing theirs last. As the last flowers fell, a sonorous BOOM sounded overhead, causing screams to erupt from the mourners and a few to dart towards the gate. Harry grabbed Hermione’s hand and pulled her out of the tent. He drew his wand, ready to disapparate, thoughts of escaped Death Eaters racing through his mind. But then a glittering phoenix caught his eye and he abruptly stopped and looked up. Harry, still holding Hermione’s hand, smiled and took a few steps forward.  
  
Fireworks were exploding overhead. Whistling snitches zigzagged across the sky as the image of a red-haired boy on a broomstick whizzed by, swinging a blunger bat and leaving a trail of red sparks in his wake. More explosions produced two golden Ws, that hung majestically in front of the clouds. Laughter rang out amidst oohs and ahhs and everyone spent the next five minutes pointing and enjoying the show, as showers of sparks continued to light up the sky. Harry had never seen anything like it.   
  
“It’s brilliant,” Hermione gasped. Harry looked over and saw her smiling ear to ear, as tears poured down her cheeks.  
  
Finally, one last blast rocked the cemetery and a sparkling green, knitted Weasley sweater erupted, emblazoned with a fiery letter F. Harry could hear Molly’s laughter clearest of all and it was the most glorious sound he had heard in a long while. The hole left in their family would never be able to be filled, but, if Harry was sure of one thing in this world, the Weasley family bond was strong and he was so thankful to be a part of it.  
  
As the sparks faded and the throng of people started to disperse, Harry caught a glimpse of red dart into the veil of a weeping willow tree. He smiled, knowing George had been able to give his brother the sending off he deserved.


	3. Chapter 3

_Harry fought against the pull of the locket, trying to kick his way to the surface of the icy lake. He could see Ron and Hermione standing at the water’s edge, dressed in their funeral attire. He reached out, frantically waving for them to help. They gave no signs of wanting to provide assistance to their drowning friend._  
  
 _Ron’s eerily calm voice sounded in Harry’s ear. “We trusted you. You said you knew what you were doing.”_  
  
 _Harry shouted out, “No!” but all that emerged from his mouth were strangled bubbles. The Horcrux pulled him deeper and deeper, as the icy water burned his lungs. Harry watched in horror as his best friends turned their backs and walked away. The locket continued to drag him down…deeper and deeper, darker and darker, until there was nothing left…._  
  
  
  
“NO!” Harry felt a sharp pain in his left side. His eyes burst open and were instantly flooded with bright sunlight streaming in the living room window.  
  
“Harry!” Ginny swung her legs off the arm of the recliner and knelt down by his side. Harry blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden illumination. He realized that he was on the floor and the pain in his side came from tumbling off the couch. Ginny held her hand out to him and helped him to his feet. “Another nightmare?” she asked.  
  
Harry rubbed his side and nodded. “Can it really be called a nightmare if you have it in the middle of the afternoon?” He laughed pitifully at his own joke and grabbed his glasses from the side table. “Thanks for setting these aside,” Harry said, motioning to the glasses as he put them on. Ginny smiled and curled back up on the chair to continue reading her novel. “I’m gonna get some fresh air.” He stroked her hair and headed out the back door.   
  
Hopping the stone wall, Harry set off for the smaller pond that laid about a half mile away. It had become a favorite destination for when he wanted to avoid certain discussions.  
  
After Fred’s funeral, they all started trying to gain a sense of normalcy to their lives. The main talk of the house was Harry, Ron, and Hermione being able to return to Hogwarts in September. Molly was beside herself, so happy that they would be able to finish their education. It also had the benefit of giving her something positive to focus on after so much loss. Ginny had positively glowed when Hermione told her the news. She was looking forward to picking up where she and Harry had left off a year ago. The look of pure happiness she showed Harry had left him paralyzed and unable to do anything but smile back at her. He couldn’t bring himself to break her heart by telling her that he, in fact, didn’t want to return to the castle.  
  
Despite the somber mood around the house, Harry had felt peaceful for the first time since Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Since Harry’s return to The Burrow, there had been an unspoken understanding between him and Ginny. They were affectionate with each other, but both careful not to take it over the top. As much as he wanted to steal her away to a secluded corner of the orchard or sneak into her room on one of his many sleepless nights, he respected Molly and Arthur too much to betray their trust in him with their only daughter. And so, for the time being, they kept their physical interactions to a minimum.  
  
Ron and Hermione weren’t quite so subtle in their displays, as Harry was reminded when the pond came into view. On the far bank, under the shade of several apple trees, the couple was in the middle of what Harry could plainly see was a passionate moment. Shoes had been kicked off and Hermione’s ponytail had come loose as she yanked Ron’s t-shirt off of him.   
  
Harry quickly retreated back up the trail before either one could spot him, though he doubted whether a dementor could distract them at the moment. He chalked it up to making the most of their time together. The following day, Hermione would be accompanied by two ministry officials to Australia, intent on finding her parents and safely restoring their memories. She met with Kingsley two days prior to finalize the details and had returned to The Burrow with a handful of pamphlets about magical careers and all their requirements. That evening and the next day, Ron seemed a bit put off as Hermione poured over every pamphlet, every now and then handing him one or two, encouraging him to “just think about it”.   
  
Harry made his way back to the house and was grateful to see a platter of sandwich fixings laid out. He fixed himself a corned beef and swiss sandwich, grabbed a handful of crisps, and sat down to dig in.  
  
“An owl arrived for you while you were out,” Ginny announced, walking into the kitchen. She set a rolled up piece of parchment in front of Harry and tousled his hair.  
  
“I wah bar’y ow’ for twummy mints,” Harry exclaimed, spraying corned beef bits across the table.  
  
“Charming,” Ginny muttered, pulling a tuft of his hair. He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “Eww, I don’t want your corned beef cooties!” she squealed, pulling her arm away.  
  
Harry swallowed his sandwich bite and laughed. Ginny set about making a turkey sandwich while Harry picked up the parchment. He saw the purple wax Ministry seal and said, “Must be from Kingsley. He said he’d be in touch with me.” He unfurled the letter and quickly scanned Kingsley’s brief request for Harry to meet with him the following morning, at nine a.m.  
  
“What’s it say?” Ginny asked, sitting down across from Harry and nicking one of his crisps.   
  
“He wants me to come to the Ministry tomorrow morning,” Harry answered, playfully swatting her hand away as she moved in for another crisp. “Wants to talk over a few options for my future. He had said in McGonagall’s office that he’d be getting in touch after things settled down.” He set the parchment down and watched as two more crisps disappeared from his plate. “You know, there is a whole bowl full of them on the counter, right over there,” Harry jokingly chided.  
  
“Yes, but I can reach yours,” Ginny replied, popping another into her mouth. “I can’t legally magic those over here for another few weeks.”  
  
“When has the legality of something ever gotten in your way,” Harry laughed. He pointed his wand at the counter and called, “Accio crisps.”  
  
The bowl zoomed across the kitchen and landed in front of Ginny. She grinned at Harry and tossed a crisp at him.  
  
“I can’t win,” Harry muttered, picking his sandwich back up. He and Ginny finished their lunch in a pleasant silence and had just started to clean up when the back door opened and two distinct gasps echoed over the tile. Ginny and Harry looked up to see Ron and Hermione stating at the threshold, contemplating their next move. To say they looked slightly disheveled was a vast understatement.   
  
Harry resisted the urge to laugh, put down his plate, and pulled Ginny to his side. She looked at Ron and Hermione with a devilish smirk as Harry forced his face and voice into seriousness and asked, “Where, may I ask, have you two been?”  
  
“Out,” Ron replied, his voice an active higher than normal. Hermione looked horrified, eyes wide and biting her bottom lip. She desperately reached up and tried to smooth her hair.  
  
“Out?” Harry questioned further. “You sneak out of here with no note, no reassuring owl, nothing! You’re gone for hours on end and we’re just supposed to accept ‘Out’ as justification?” Ginny buried her face into Harry’s side, trying, unsuccessfully, not to laugh.  
  
“Sod off mate,” Ron groaned. He tugged Hermione’s hand and started heading for the stairs.  
  
“I’m going to go pack,” Hermione attempted to explain, as Ron pulled her through the kitchen.   
  
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Harry teased. Ginny slapped his side, giving up on hiding her laughter. Without looking back, Ron offered up a rude hand gesture and started to climb the stairs. “Seriously though, mate,” Harry called,  
  
Ron stopped, turned around and shouted, “What?!”  
  
“Where’s your left shoe?”  
  
Ron looked down and his face suddenly matched his hair. “Dammit,” he muttered.  
  
“Oh, Ronald…”Hermione moaned, pushing him to continue up the staircase.  
  
Harry opened his mouth to make another cheeky comment, but Ginny’s hand clamped over it before he could utter a syllable. He glanced down at her face, alight with laughter and eyes glistening with tears.   
  
“Let them enjoy their moment,” she giggled. Harry narrowed his eyes at her and licked her palm. “Ewww!” Ginny squealed, giving him a shove.   
  
Harry caught her arms and pulled her against him, letting his arms wrap around her waist. She relaxed and laid her head on his chest as he nuzzled her hair with his nose. “I prefer to enjoy this moment,” he murmured in her ear. Ginny looked up into his eyes, her laughter finally faded, and pulled his head towards hers, parting her lips ever so slightly. Harry closed his eyes and leaned down, feeling her breath on his face…   
  
A sudden cough caused them both to startle and crack foreheads. Harry looked over Ginny’s shoulder and saw Arthur, holding groceries in one arm and making a slashing motion across his throat with the other. In front of him stood Molly, arms crossed over her chest. Her mouth was set in a firm line, and her usually mellow brown eyes were ablaze. Harry dropped his hands to his side immediately and stood up straight.   
  
“I hate to interrupt this portrait worthy moment,” Molly huffed, “But in the middle of my kitchen? Honestly!” Molly snatched the sack of groceries from Arthur and stalked over to the counter to unpack them. “At least Ron and Hermione have the good sense to attempt to hide their snogging.”  
  
“Sorry Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, sheepishly.  
  
Molly turned and walked over to Harry, smiled, and placed her hand on his cheek. “I love that you make our daughter happy,” she said, patting his cheek. “Just not in my kitchen.” Her last pat was unexpectedly firm and she walked back to the counter, leaving Harry rubbing his face. Ginny watched her mother, mouth agape in surprise.  
  
“May I muck out the chicken, as way of apology?” Harry asked, quickly reaching around and gently lifting Ginny’s chin to close her mouth.   
  
“Don’t you try that Potter charm on me, young man,” Molly laughed, as she pulled carrots out of her bag. She looked over her shoulder and said, with a wink, “That would be most helpful though, dear. Thank you. Andromeda and Teddy should be here around five-thirty for dinner.  
  
Harry doffed an imaginary cap and gave Ginny’s hip a light squeeze. He turned to Arthur, who had sat down at the table to peruse the Sunday Prophet.  
  
“Mr. Weasley,” Harry prompted. Arthur looked up and smiled. “The minister sent an owl earlier, asking for me to meet with him tomorrow morning. Will it be okay if I head into the ministry with you tomorrow?”  
  
“Of course Harry. Hermione is coming along, also, to catch the first of her international portkeys. We’ll be heading in around 8.”   
  
“Thanks.” Harry made his way out to the back garden. He traded his trainers for a pair of old Wellingtons and headed to the coop. He spent a rather hot hour mucking out chicken droppings, mending broken caging, collecting eggs, and feeding the birds before heading back to the house. He kicked off the boots and made a beeline up the stairs, for the shower. By the time he made it to his room, he had just enough energy to throw on a pair of boxers and an undershirt, before he toppled onto the bed and succumb to sleep.  
  
A sudden knock on his door made him bolt up. It felt like it had been two minutes, but the clock on the nightstand made it clear that Harry had been asleep for almost two hours. He stumbled to the door and opened it. Ginny stood on the other side, wearing one of her mother’s aprons and a look of surprise. It took Harry a second to remember what he was wearing. He turned around, searching the room for his robe. He bent over and started rifling through a pile of dirty clothes.  
  
“Ooh,” Ginny gasped. Harry quickly stood up and saw Ginny had gone red in the face and was looking up the hallway. “Mum sent me to find you. Andromeda and Teddy are here, and Mum says dinner is in ten, with or without you.”  
  
“Er, yeah, thanks. I’ll be down in five.”  
  
Ginny gave him a little wave and quickly shut the door. Harry blew out a sigh and ran his hands through his hair. He heard a gentle thump on the other side of the door and a distinct giggle.   
  
Harry smiled and walked over the door, “I can hear you, you know,” he called.  
  
The giggling stopped instantly and Harry heard Ginny mutter, “Shit,” before she retreated down the steps.   
  
Harry sifted through his meager clothing collection, trying to find something that wasn’t battered, burned, or bedraggled. He finally settled on an old pair of jeans that were faded, but had no holes, and a blue button-up shirt. Deeming himself at least half decent, he headed down for dinner.   
  
He found the kitchen empty. A collection of voices could be heard in the back garden. He walked out the back door and saw that the Weasley’s two huge picnic tables had been pushed together. He had just been expecting Andromeda and Teddy, and they were there, sitting at the end of one table, beside Hermione, who was gushing over the baby. Harry looked around and saw that Bill, Fleur, Charlie, George, Luna Lovegood, and her father, Xenophilous, had also turned up for dinner.  
  
“Mum invited them all to see Hermione off,” said a voice beside Harry that made him jump. He looked to his right and saw Ginny holding a stack of plates, with cutlery on top. She caught his eye and red spots appeared on her cheeks.   
  
“Did my eyes deceive me, or was that treacle tart I spied on my way out?” Harry said, trying to lighten the tension. He could see her relax a little as she nodded. He took the top half of plates from her, kissed her forehead, and went to start setting the places.   
  
After his supply of plates was exhausted, he took a seat across from Andromeda. Hermione was now holding Teddy and cooing incomprehensible baby talk, as the infant stared up at her, spittle dribbling from his lips. Beside her, Ron looked on with a slightly uneasy expression.   
  
“Hello Harry,” Andromeda greeted. “Ron and Hermione were just telling me that you three will get to return to Hogwarts this year. You must be so excited!”  
  
“What? Oh, yeah, of course. It’s great.” Harry said quickly. He summoned a bottle of Butterbeer and took a long pull from it.   
  
“What’s great?” Ginny interjected, sitting down on the bench beside Harry.   
  
“Going back to Hogwarts,” Hermione answered, not taking her eyes off the baby.   
  
Ginny beamed at Harry and grabbed his hand. “I’m so happy McGonagall is letting you all come back,” she gushed. “Luna was just telling me how she plans on returning, and Neville had written to her saying that he was coming back too. It’ll be just like it used to be. Well, almost,” she concluded, looking guiltily down the table at George.   
  
Harry watched with her for a moment as George pulled at the label on his bottle, half-heartedly nodding along to whatever Charlie was talking about. He had been back to work at the Wizarding Wheezes shop for a week now. The day before George reopened the shop, Lee Jordan had come in to apologize for bailing on the funeral. Apparently though, before Lee could get one word out, George sucker punched him, knocking Lee out cold. Once he came round, George let Lee explain that the day of the funeral Lee had had a nervous breakdown at the thought of burying his best friend and couldn’t summon the courage to go to the cemetery. George still wasn’t happy, but they called a civil truce and Lee had started helping him out in the shop.  
  
Harry turned back to Andromeda and tried to smile, but knew it came out more of a grimace. “Yeah, just like old times,” Harry muttered. Andromeda seemed to catch Harry’s tone, though it was lost to the others amidst the baby and reminiscing. She gave him an understanding smile and didn’t press the subject anymore.   
  
After numerous helpings of steak and kidney pie, roast potatoes, and Yorkshire pudding, Harry volunteered to clear up and bring out the dessert. Before Ginny could offer to help, Andromeda stood up and started gathering plates and cutlery. She followed Harry into the kitchen and placed her stack in the sink. With a wave of her wand, the sink filled with hot, soapy water and the brush sprung to life, scrubbing the plates. Harry got a stack of dessert plates from the cupboard and turn around to find Andromeda staring at him.   
  
“You don’t want to go back to school do you?” she asked softly. Harry started into his rehearsed protest, but she held up her hand and he stopped. “It’s okay Harry, you don’t have to pretend with me. I could hear it in your voice, during dinner- wanting very much to move on with your life, but feeling an even greater need to not hurt your friends.”  
  
Harry sighed and set the plates down. “It’s exactly that,” he groaned, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. “I don’t want to go back to Hogwarts. As much as I love and treasure the place, I just can’t face it. I need something more. I want to, as you said, to move on with my life.” Harry frowned and looked out the window at his friends. “I just feel like it I tell them that, they’ll feel like I’m trying to move on without them. And if there’s one thing I have learned in these last seven years, it’s that I need them in my life.”  
  
Andromeda laughed and reached over to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m certain that you have learned much more than most in the last seven years. Which is why I’m confident you’ll figure out how to go about getting what you want.” She followed Harry’s gaze out the window. “As for your friends, they’ve stuck by you through so much, I think you’ll find it hard to drive them away now.” Tears stung Harry’s eyes as he looked at her. She smiled warmly and hugged him tightly. “I’m so grateful that Dora and Remus chose you as Teddy’s godfather. In the absence of his parents, I couldn’t ask for a better man for him to look up to.”  
  
“I’ll try to make them proud,” Harry whispered, as his throat tightened and more tears spilled.  
  
Andromeda laughed and patted his shoulders. “You already have, dear.”  
  
“Oi, Potter!” Ron’s voice boomed. “Where’s my bloody pudding?”  
  
Harry laughed as he swiped the tears off his face and grabbed the stack of plates. Andromeda summoned the treacle tart and led him back out the garden. Thankful that the sun had sunk low enough to hide his red eyes, Harry passed out plates and settled back into his seat. He was immediately greeted with Hermione plunking little Teddy into his arms. Harry cuddled the infant and stuffed himself with treacle tart until the daylight surrendered to dusk. As the stars started to take center stage. Andromeda gently stole back the sleeping baby, and promised another visit in the near future, before departing. Ginny nestled sleepily into his side and Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulder, content with his place in life, for the moment.


	4. Chapter 4

_“You think you’re a worthy match for my skill and power,” Voldemort snarled._  
  
 _Harry said nothing. He concentrated on the keeping connection between the two wands, using all his strength to control his own spell and not crack under the killing curse._  
  
 _“Give up Harry Potter.” Voldemort’s harsh whisper made Harry dig deeper. “Your friends have abandoned you. There is nowhere left to run”_  
  
 _Harry chanced a quick look around and was shocked to see he was alone. A sharp whistle made his stomach lurch._  
  
 _“You have reached the end of the track,” the Dark Lord cackled._  
  
 _In terror, Harry looked at his feet and saw he was standing on a set of train tracks. Another whistle made him look over his shoulder to see the scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express barreling towards him. A sudden lightness in his hand wrenched his head back forward. Voldemort had broken the spell._  
  
 _“You lose, Harry Potter,” he hissed, just before disappearing in a spiraling cloud of black smoke._  
  
 _The train whistled again, growing louder by the second. Harry tried to spin and disapparate, but he feet remained rooted to the tracks. Another earsplitting whistle. Harry braced himself for the impact…._  
  
  
  
Harry gasped and his eyes shot open. He took a second to stare at the ceiling and remind himself of where he was. There was, of course, no train whistling its imminent approach. It was, in fact, the alarm clock he had set, for six a.m., the previous evening. After a few valiant swings, he finally made contact with the clock and it went silent. He laid in bed for another few minutes, calming his ragged breathing. Finally, at six-fifteen, Harry sat up, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and made his way to the bathroom.  
  
On his very first visit to the Weasley home, all those years ago, he learned that the early wizard got the bathroom. He was pleased to find the bathroom open and empty. He spent a few extra minutes in the warm shower, trying to wash away the anxiety of his latest nightmare. It had taken him over an hour to drift off the night before, but Harry’s sleep was anything but peaceful. His dreams were filled with dark memories, mingling with a fear of abandonment by his friends.   
  
He knew he should come clean with them about how he was feeling about returning to Hogwarts and just clear his conscience. But he was worried about creating any tension between them and making the upcoming year harder than it had to be. If he had to return to the former battlefield, he knew he would need his friends’ support.   
  
Above all, he was finally getting to have the relationship with Ginny that he had been longing for and fearing he may never get the past year. He didn’t want his anxiety to make her feel unwanted and ultimately drive her away. He turned off the taps and resolved that the battle in his mind was one that he would have to fight on his own. At least for now.  
  
As Harry was halfway through shaving, someone pounded on the bathroom door and made him nick his chin. He cursed loudly as bright red blood trickled into the sink.  
  
“Sorry Harry, but are you soon finished?” Hermione called.  
  
“Just a minute,” Harry grumbled. He stuck a piece of toilet paper on his cut and hurried through the rest of his shave, nicking himself several more times in his haste. By the time he opened the door, half his face was covered in bathroom tissue and he locked Hermione in a death stare.  
  
“Oh Harry, I’m so sorry…” she whispered, reaching out to fix a piece of tissue by his ear.  
  
“It’s alright,” Harry muttered, gently pushing her hand away. “All yours,” he said motioning to the bathroom. He left her on the landing and hurried down to his bedroom. He wanted to make sure he had a chance to grab a bite to eat before heading into the ministry.   
  
Harry took his freshly pressed dress robes from the closet and pulled them on. After straightening out his collar, he dashed downstairs and was welcomed by the sight of sausages, eggs, and toast. Ginny was helping Molly set out the last few plates and mugs. When she caught sight of Harry’s face, she let out a little gasp, and then a giggle.   
  
“Did you let a gnome shave your face?” she asked, gingerly pulling some of the tissue from his face.   
  
“Unexpected interruption,” he mumbled. He fell into a chair and turned to Molly. “Mrs. Weasley, do you think you could fix my face?”  
  
“Gonna take a lot more than magic for that mate,” Ron teased, nabbing a sausage from the plate. He looked down at Harry and his smile faded. “Bloody hell Harry. First time with a razor?”  
  
“Shush,” Molly admonished, slapping Ron’s shoulder. She held up her wand and warned, “Don’t move now, dear.” Molly pointed her wand at the cuts and muttered, “Tergeo.” Harry felt the tissue and dried blood disappear. One by one, Molly hovered over each cut and mended them with a curt, “Episkey.”  
  
“Thanks,” Harry breathed and he tucked into a plate full of sausage and eggs. Hermione joined them ten minutes later, carrying her enchanted beaded bag. She attempted another apology to Harry, but he waved her off. “Nothing a few quick spells couldn’t heal.”  
  
“I finally unpacked the rest of your’s and Ron’s things from my bag,” Hermione informed, piling eggs onto her plate. “Your things are all in a pile in the corner of Ron’s room,” she said to Harry. He nodded, unable to speak around his toast. “I don’t know what to do with the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black though. For the moment I stuck it in the attic so that Ron wouldn’t feel like he was being watched.”  
  
“Much appreciated sweetheart,” Ron commended.  
  
Hermione blushed and continued on, “I wasn’t sure if you had any plans to go back to Grimmauld Place, but I certainly wasn’t going to be taking him along to Australia.”  
  
Harry shook his head and swallowed. “I don’t have any desire to return there. At the moment, Kreacher seems happy-“ Ron interrupted with a laugh and Harry smiled before continuing,” happy enough in the Hogwarts kitchens. I’ll talk to Kingsley today about what I can do with the property. It’s not exactly full of cheerful memories that I want to save. I’m hoping some highly skilled wizards can go in and clean it out so that maybe I can sell it and be done with it.”   
  
“Fair enough,” Hermione agreed, spreading jam onto a slice of toast. She turned to Ron and said, “Our owls from Hogwarts should be arriving in the next few weeks. Please don’t forget to send back my reply with yours.” She grabbed his hand and gave him a pleading look.  
  
“Don’t worry, I will,” Ron said, focusing on cutting up his third sausage.  
  
“I already wrote it out-“ Hermione started.  
  
“And put it on my desk,” Ron finished, still not looking up from his plate.  
  
“Yes,” Hermione said, clearly becoming annoyed. “All you have to do-“  
  
“Is send it along with my reply,” Ron continued, stuffing a piece of sausage in his mouth.  
  
Hermione growled and tossed Ron’s hand away. “I’m going to be away for weeks! You could at least pretend like you’ll miss me for heaven’s sake!”  
  
Ron finally looked up, turned Hermione’s face back to his, and said, “Of course I’m going to miss you,” and kissed her lips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already made that clear.”  
  
Hermione sniffled and nodded her head as a little sob escaped her throat. Unable to speak, she leaned in and kissed Ron again.  
  
“Hey now,” Harry called, poking Ron with his fork. “Some of us are still trying to eat. That’s what the pond is for.”  
  
Ginny gave Harry a whack on the shoulder and laughed, “Leave them alone.”  
  
Their kiss was promptly interrupted, though, by Arthur’s entrance. “Right, now,” Arthur said, slapping the back of Ron’s head with the morning paper. “Are we ready?” he asked, looking at Harry and Hermione.  
  
Harry nodded, as he shoved a final bit of toast into his mouth and gulped the last of his tea. Hermione gave Ron one last kiss, before standing up and throwing her bag over her shoulder. Harry kissed the top of Ginny’s head, who had just sat down to eat her own breakfast.   
  
“When will you be back?” she asked.  
  
“Um, not sure exactly,” Harry answered. “I imagine it should only take an hour, so probably by lunchtime.” Ginny nodded and Harry hurried over to the fireplace.  
  
“Ladies first,” Arthur said, motioning for Hermione to step up.  
  
With one last little wave to Ron, Hermione stepped into the hearth and called out, “Ministry of Magic!” A second later, she was gone and Ron slumped in his chair, frowning.   
  
Harry stepped into the hearth next and quickly joined Hermione in the Ministry’s atrium. It had been just under a year since they were there last, under the disguise of Polyjuice potion, in a successful bid to get the locket Horcrux. Harry looked around and was pleased to see that the former statue, depicting wizards conquering muggles, had been replaced. In its spot stood a large, circular fountain. Souring out of the center was a shimmering, multihued phoenix, with multiple water jets gushing up around it. Harry and Hermione walked over together and upon closer inspection, discovered that all along the marble wall were inscribed the names of those lost during not only the second war but also the first.  
  
Harry and Hermione toured the perimeter of the fountain, silently pointing out familiar names to each other. Harry lingered at the names of his parents and let his fingers glide over their inscriptions. As they came back around to their starting point, they were met by Arthur.  
  
“They just put the finishing touches on it last week,” he explained, looking up at the Phoenix.  
  
Harry suddenly recalled the first fountain that had been there, even before the grotesque statue. “Mr. Weasley, does the money thrown in still get donated to St. Mungo's?” Harry asked.  
  
“It’s actually being split for the time being. Some will go to St. Mungo's, the rest will go to helping families that need assistance in rebuilding from the war,” Arthur explained.   
  
Harry dug into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a handful of galleons. He tossed them all into the fountain and Hermione followed suit. The sudden splashing turned the heads of a few passing wizards. When they saw the cause of the noise, they nodded and smiled at Harry and Hermione, before continuing on.  
  
“Come along now,” Arthur called. “Hate for you two to be late.” He started striding towards the lifts.  
  
“So what do you think Kingsley wants to discuss with you?” Hermione asked as they followed behind Arthur.  
  
“All he said back in McGonagall’s office was that he wanted to go over options for my future,” Harry answered. “Considering we’ll be returning to Hogwarts, I assume he wants to hash out what level of security i’ll be comfortable with at the castle.”  
  
“You don’t think he’ll offer you a job?”  
  
Harry shook his head as they stopped at the bank of lifts. “What sort of job would I be qualified for? I’ve only completed six years of school-“  
  
“And destroyed a powerful dark wizard, essentially saving the world,” Hermione interrupted.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes as a lift clattered open. They shuffled into it with Arthur and a few other purple robed wizards and witches.   
  
“As impressive as that might be, there’s still the fact that I’m lacking an entire year of school and have no N.E.W.T.s under my belt,” Harry continued as the lift rocketed downwards.   
  
A sudden stop and an airy voice signaled that they had reached level two. Arthur gave them a gentle prod, and Hermione and Harry staggered out. They followed Arthur down a long corridor, to a small waiting area at the end. A petite witch, with long brunette waves flowing over her shoulders and and bright orange glasses framing her ocean blue eyes, was perched at a desk, dictating a memo.  
  
“Morning Marissa,” Arthur greeted. Marissa stopped talking, causing her quill to hover over the parchment. She looked up at Arthur and smiled. Harry noticed small piercings in her nose and left eyebrow.  
  
“Hell,o Mr. Weasley!” Marissa chirped. She picked up a stack of parchments from a tray and passed them to Arthur.   
  
“Thank you, dear,” Arthur said, tucking the stack under his arm. “Could I bother you for two quick favors?”  
  
“It’s what I’m here for, sir,” Marissa smiled, showing off what looked like a hundred, sparkling white teeth.   
  
“Could you get send a quick message to the International Relations department and let them know Hermione Granger has arrived with me,” Arthur instructed, motioning to Hermione. Marissa nodded, scribbled out a quick note on purple parchment, and tapped it with her wand. The parchment instantly folded into an airplane and zoomed off. She looked back at Arthur, poised to write the next note. “Please let the Minister know, that Harry Potter is in my office and to send for him whenever the Minister is ready.”  
  
Marissa looked up at Harry and looked him over, an unsettling hungry look glowing in her blue eyes. Harry quickly looked down at his feet as she hastily wrote out the second message. When Harry heard it zoom off, up the corridor, he looked back up. Marissa was staring at him, seductively running the end of her quill across her cherry red lips. Harry swallowed hard and tried to make a break for the sanctuary of Arthur’s office. Marissa was quick and caught his wrist.  
  
“I’m done here at four,” she purred. “Meet me for a drink after?”  
  
“Er…no…that’s, uh….kind of you, but…” Harry stammered, trying to form a cohesive sentence. “Spoken for, thank you,” Hermione trilled, shoving Harry towards the office door.  
  
“If you’re ever unspoken for, you know where to find me,” Marissa called, sweetly.   
  
“She wasn’t very subtle,” Hermione exclaimed, closing the door.   
  
“Thanks for the save,” Harry groaned, sinking into a chair in front of Arthur’s desk.  
  
“I don’t put it past her to slip a love potion into some poor, unsuspecting bloke’s gin and tonic,” Hermione said snidely, sitting in the chair beside Harry.  
  
Harry glanced around the office. It was the first he had been to the Ministry, with Arthur, since his promotion. His new office was sizably bigger than his former one. He actually had room for more than one guest to sit comfortably, without having to dislocate joints. His walls were still filled with various instruction pamphlets on electronic muggle items. Harry noticed on the wall, next to the door, hung a huge, framed grid outlining the electrical wiring for the West Minster Abbey. Harry chuckled and turned back to Arthur, who had started sifting through his pile of mail.   
  
“You wouldn’t believe the number of reports we’ve been receiving about suspected dark objects,” Arthur muttered. “All of Britain’s wizards are on edge and paranoid about anything and everything they don’t recognize. It’s understandable of course,” he continued looking up. “But it sure makes for a lot of extra, usually unnecessary work. Last week, two of my staff got called off to Cornwall to inspect a demonic, singing brick.”  
  
Harry gave Arthur a perplexed look, but Hermione smiled like she knew where he was leading with the story.  
  
“They get there and it turns out a muggle child had left his casted…castled…kitset?” He looked to Hermione for help.  
  
“Cassette,” she supplied.  
  
“That’s it, cassette player,” Arthur continued. “He had left his cassette player in the park. When the informing wizard attempted to cast a spell on it (a stupid choice in the first place!), it started blasting that hefty medal music.”  
  
“Heavy metal,” Hermione corrected with a laugh.  
  
“The ministry has sent instructions to everyone in the country to keep their distance from anything they think might have been possessed by dark magic and inform us straight away, but some will never listen. Which is how you get your fingers cursed off like poor Paul Gerkins,” Arthur sighed.  
  
The ethereal voice of Marissa announced, “Gemma Mosely and Elaine Johnson have arrived for Miss Hermione Granger.”  
  
Harry stood up, but didn’t make a move for the door. “I’m gonna say good-bye here,” he said, opening his arms for a hug. “I’d like to not have to go back out there until I have to.”  
  
Hermione laughed and wrapped him in a tight hug. “Keep Ron in line until I return.”  
  
“Unlikely, but I’ll give it a go.”  
  
“Send me an owl every now and then. Keep me in the loop, because Merlin knows he won’t,” Hermione scoffed, picking up her bag.  
  
“I’ll make sure the git writes you at least once a week. Go now, you don’t want to miss your first portkey,” Harry urged. “Make sure you write when you can, let us know how the search goes.”  
  
Hermione nodded, waved, and scurried out the door.   
  
Harry settled back in his chair and picked up the morning Daily Prophet. He was relieved to see his name mentioned only once, though annoyed to see it was in a Rita Skeeter article, questioning Harry’s sanity and what he would do next. What annoyed him most is that he and the gossip journalist shared the same sentiments. He tossed the paper aside and started walking around, inspecting Arthur’s posters.  
  
Arthur returned and continued to sort through his mail, every now and then sending a purple memo whizzing out the door. Ata quarter ’til nine, there was a knock on the office door.   
  
“Come in,” Arthur called.  
  
The door opened and Kingsley Shacklebolt strode in. “Morning Arthur,” he greeted. “Harry, nice to see you again, as always,” he said with a smile, extending his hand.  
  
“Good morning Minister,” Harry replied, shaking Kingsley’s hand.  
  
Kingsley laughed and it reminded Harry of rolling thunder. “Please, Harry, none of this Minister frivolity. I think we’re quite past formalities. I beg you, call me Kingsley.” His immense hand clapped Harry’s shoulder and he turned back to Arthur. “I’ve connected my fireplace to your house Arthur, so you don’t have to worry about getting him home.”  
  
Arthur nodded and gave Harry a wave. “See you for dinner then,” he said.  
  
Harry waved and followed Kingsley out the door.  
  
“See ya ‘round handsome,” Marissa cooed, causing Harry to quicken his pace and stare straight ahead as he hastened up the corridor.   
  
Kingsley’s office was on the seventh level and easily as large as the Gryffindor dormitory. The entire west wall was lined with a bookshelf, crammed full of ancient looking, leather bound books. A large globe stood next to a massive, dark oak desk. The east wall hosted several ceiling high filing cabinets, three cages- each housing a large, tawny barn owl, and portraits of former ministers. Lush, purple carpet covered the entire floor and when Harry crossed the room, it felt like he was walking on a blanket of marshmallows. Kingsley gracefully slid into the leather seat behind his desk, and motioned for Harry to occupy the identical one across from him.   
  
“Sir, before we start planning my future, I wanted to quickly ask you about another matter,” Harry said, taking his seat. Kingsley nodded and Harry proceeded. “I don’t want Grimmauld Place, what can I do with it?” he blurted out.  
  
Kingsley chuckled and nodded. “If I remember right, the Black family did a pretty good job at setting up shop in there. I’m sure Ron still has the occasional nightmare of murderous curtains.” Harry snorted and nodded in agreement. “I’ll send some of my top staff out there in the next week or so to see what we can do about clearing out some of the more stubborn occupants. Should we worry about the house elf?”  
  
“No, he’s been at Hogwarts the last year. The only one that’ll give you grief is Mrs. Black.”  
  
Kingsley nodded and made a note on the subject. “We’ll get it sorted out and I can’t imagine you’ll have much trouble selling hit.” Kingsley pulled a stack of parchments from the top drawer of his desk and started rifling through them. “Another side note, before we get to the meat and potatoes of our meeting. I got word from Dedalus Diggle that your family was returned to their home on Privet Drive, after an extensive search to ensure their safety of course.”  
  
“Oh,” Harry said, slightly startled. He hadn’t really given much thought about his aunt, uncle, or cousin since leaving Privet Drive. “Um, thanks. That’s good news, I suppose.”  
  
Kingsley gave a low chuckle and pulled out the parchment he had been searching for. “Now, Mr. Potter, let’s talk shop. Minerva informed me that your career goal in fifth and sixth year was to become an Auror. Is this something you’re still interested in?”  
  
Harry sat up a bit straighter and answered, “Yes, it’s the only thing I’ve really ever seen myself pursuing after school.”  
  
“Excellent,” Kingsley leaned forward and continued on. “And she informed you that, if you wish, you could return to school and complete your seventh year?”  
  
“Yeah,” Harry replied, his face falling slightly.  
  
“I don’t sense that you wish to return though,” Kingsley pressed, his dark eyes seeing straight into Harry’s mind. Harry shook his head. “I completely understand, son. And to be honest, I think you would regret wasting a whole year doing something you don’t have to. Most seventh year tasks would be beneath your current skill level. That is why I’d like you to consider these other two options I have for you.”  
  
“First, if you would like, we can enroll you in our own Auror training program.” Kingsley passed Harry a brochure for the A.I.G.B- Auror Institute of Great Britain. Kingsley continued as Harry studied the cover. “You would move to London and undergo our extensive training regimen. It would last three years and afterwards, given that you’ve satisfactorily passed all your courses, you’ll be invited into the Ministry as an Auror Apprentice.”  
  
“But, sir, I haven’t sat a single N.E.W.T. How could I possibly be accepted into the program without passing my exams?” Harry asked, placing the brochure on his lap.  
  
“My dear boy,” Kingsley laughed. “You have delved deeper into the the dark arts then any of our top Aurors, and still managed to come out as pure as the day you stepped through the doors of Hogwarts. I don’t believe any test is going to prove to us something we haven’t already seen.”  
  
Harry shifted awkwardly in his chair. He flipped through the brochure quickly before commenting, “You mentioned a second option?”  
  
“Yes,” Kingsley pulled a thick magazine from the bottom of his parchment pile. “I started thinking, ‘If I was Harry Potter, what would my greatest wish be at the moment?’ After much thought, I landed on anonymity,” he said slowly, handing Harry the magazine.  
  
Across the top, in gold, block letters, was emblazoned A.A.A. Under that, in a smaller font, Harry read Auror Academy of America.  
  
“America?” Harry muttered. He looked up at Kingsley, puzzled. “You want to send me to America?”  
  
“I pulled a few strings and was able to secure one of the last coveted spots in their program. You wouldn’t be there for three years. You’d spend only your first year there, studying the general aspects of the job. The basics of the Auror field is universal. After the first year, you would be able to come back and complete your final two years in London.”   
  
Kingsley studied Harry as he paged through the magazine. It was filled with colorful landscapes, showing off each of the country’s three campuses. Pictures of administrators and professors boasting about the high end facilities and hands on training students would enjoy.   
  
“They have three schools?” Harry asked, finally looking up from the magazine.   
  
Kingsley motioned to his globe and spun it to the United States. “As you can see, their country is considerably larger than ours. The have three schools, to accommodate each region. There is one in Roanoke, Virginia,” Kingsley said, pointing to the country’s east coast. “Another is in Austin, Texas.” His finger moved to the south. “And the final one is located in Los Angeles, California.” His finger landed on the western coast. Kingsley sat back down and continued to watch Harry.  
  
Harry sat back down, his eyes lingering on the globe. “What did you mean by anonymity?”  
  
“Ahh, well, I just got the sense that you are a rather private person. Not entirely comfortable being in the spotlight, if you can help it.”   
  
“It’s definitely not my favorite past time,” Harry confirmed.  
  
“News of our war barely made a ripple in the States. I’m quite certain that you would be able to go there and nobody would bat an eye over you. You would have the chance to blend in with the rest of the students.”  
  
Harry’s heart soared at the thought. He had never been able to just blend in with the crowd. Even when he lived on Privet Drive and attended the muggle school, he was always Dudley’s scrawny cousin that everyone rejoiced in pushing around. The chance to be just Harry was a dream come true.  
  
“Which campus would I be attending?” Harry asked, moving to the edge of his seat.  
  
“The slot I was able to secure for you is at the school in Los Angeles, California.”  
  
Harry quickly flipped to the Los Angeles section of the magazine and sat in awe. Scenes full of sunshine, palm trees, and endless beaches bombarded his eyes. He had never been anywhere like that in his life. A few times Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had taken Dudley to Blackpool for a weekend getaway, but he had always been left behind with their neighbor, Mrs. Figg.  
  
“I don’t need your answer right away-“  
  
“America!” Harry exclaimed. “I want to go to America”  
  
Kingsley sat stunned for a second and then replied, “You have time to think about it. Take all this information home and mull it over with the family.”  
  
“I don’t need to mull it over,” Harry insisted. “This is an opportunity I never knew I wanted so bad. I have to take it.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Kingsley asked, slowly.  
  
“Yes,” Harry said firmly, looking Kingsley in the eye.  
  
“Ok then.” Kingsley pulled two more pieces of parchment from the pile and handed them to Harry. “The top form is your official application. Don’t worry, you’re spot won’t be given away. This will just go in your school file. The second form is for your medical information. You’ll need to visit St. Mungos and get a complete physical examination.”  
  
“Brilliant! I’ll fill these out and get them back right away,” Harry said, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.  
  
“The Ministry will pay for your tuition and books, room and board included. There’s a cafeteria on campus that will accommodate you for all your meals. All you really have to worry about is your personal items.” Kingsley stood up and placed the remaining parchment back in his top desk drawer. “Their term starts on the eighth of September.”  
  
“Eighth?” Harry questioned, standing up. “Isn’t that a bit late?”  
  
“Americans celebrate a holiday called Labour Day. That first Monday of the month is like a bank holiday, so their term begins the following Tuesday.” Kingsley escorted him to the fireplace, in the back corner of the office. “I’ll be in touch over the next two months, keeping you updated on your travel accommodations and course schedules as it all comes together.”  
  
“Thank you so much, Kingsley,” Harry said, shaking the Minister’s hand as he stepped into the fireplace. “I really appreciate this.”  
  
“My pleasure, Harry. Take care now.”  
  
Harry smiled madly as he dropped the floo powder and shouted, “The Burrow!”  
  
His excitement lasted for all of three seconds as the kitchen spun into view and he saw Ron and Ginny sitting at the table, looking at him expectantly.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry slowly climbed out of the fireplace, desperately trying to figuring out how to hide the magazine and forms in his hand.   
  
“Just in time for lunch, mate,” Ron said, his voice thick with leftover steak and kidney pie.  
  
“Great! Just let me go change,” Harry said, with almost too much enthusiasm. He tried to make a dash for the steps.  
  
“Wait a minute, Harry,” Ginny challenged. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “What have you got?”  
  
“Nothing really,” Harry rushed, trying his best to summon an speck courage and meet her imploring gaze. Harry’s desperation was lost on Ron, but Ginny had inherited her mother’s keen sense of knowing when someone was withholding information.  
  
“Then what’s the harm if I take a look at nothing?” Ginny said, snatching the information from Harry’s hand. Harry nervously ran his hand through his hair as her eyes scanned the magazine cover. Her face went white and her voice trembled as she asked, “America? Harry, why do you have this?”  
  
Ron dropped his fork and stood up to peer over Ginny’s shoulder. He shot a puzzling look at Harry, waiting for an explanation.  
  
Harry’s head whipped back and forth, praying that Molly hadn’t been in earshot. He finally looked Ginny in the eye and pleaded, “Can we talk about this outside?” He gently grabbed her hand and urged her towards the back door. She hesitated at first, pulling her hand away. “Please, Ginny,” Harry whispered.  
  
“Come on,” Ron muttered, nudging Ginny’s back. She conceded and followed Harry out to one of the picnic tables. Harry sat down. Ron and Ginny slid onto the bench in front of him, Ginny tossing the magazine on the table. Harry cringed as it landed with a thud. “What’s this about?”  
  
Harry took a deep breath and said, “The meeting with Kingsley went in a totally different direction than I expected.” He launched into telling them about his discussion with the Minister, detailing all the options that Kingsley had given him.  
  
“Oh,” Ron said, his expression lightening after Harry had finished going over the American academy. “So, this is just some reading material for you. You’ve still got plenty of time to decide.”  
  
Ginny just kept staring at Harry and it became unbearable. Harry placed his head in his hands, trying to figure out how to say what was already obvious to her.   
  
“You already decided, haven’t you?” Ginny whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.  
  
“No,” Ron laughed. He glanced at Ginny, tears falling down her cheeks, and across to Harry, who couldn’t pull his head out of his hands. “Harry, you didn’t decide yet, did you?”  
  
Harry blew out the breath he had been holding and finally looked up. “Yeah, I have,” Harry quavered.  
  
“But, what about Hogwarts?” Ron protested. “We were all supposed to be going back together.”  
  
“I’m sorry, I can’t go back there. Not right now,” Harry admitted. He turned to Ginny, silently imploring her to say something more. “I’m so sorry,” he croaked, his throat slowly closing as he tried his best not to cry.   
  
Ginny said nothing. Ron’s face grew red and he jumped to his feet. “So what, now that everything’s over we’re not good enough for you?” he yelled. “Are we just a way station on your way to bigger and better things?”  
  
“Ron, please! It’s not like that at all,” Harry started. He tried to explain what he had been feeling the past weeks. “When I think about going back to the castle, it..it…it feels as though I’m going to suffocate. There are too many memories haunting me…..literally haunting my dreams! I’m living in my own personal hell, every night. And going back is only going to make it worse.”  
  
“Do you think it’s been easy for us?” Ron shouted, slamming his hand on the table. “You think I fall asleep dreaming of kittens and bloody rainbows?”  
  
“Don’t start putting words into my mouth,” Harry threatened, rising to his feet. “And by the way, no one’s forcing you to go back!”  
  
“And what exactly am I going to do if I don’t? I don’t have a bleedin’ scar on my forehead, opening doors for me everywhere I turn, do I now?”  
  
“But that’s the point,” Harry cried, exasperated. “I don’t want that! I want to go somewhere that when I tell them my name, their eyes don’t dart right to my ‘effing head! I don’t want to pick up a bloody paper and wonder what sort of rubbish they’re trying to make up about me. I just…just…I just want to be bloody normal. For just one, brief moment, I want to know what it’s like to not have my sanity question, or abilities doubted, or have every little damn aspect of my life picked apart!”  
  
Harry crumpled back onto the bench, breathing heavy. He looked up at Ron and said, meekly, “That’s it. That’s where I am at the moment.”  
  
Ron glared at Harry, silent and expressionless. Finally, his shoulders slumped and he muttered, “Whatever,” and stalked back into the house.   
  
Harry turned to Ginny and reached out to take her hands. She quickly pulled them to her side and stood up, as if she had just been offered an Acromantula.   
  
“Ginny, I-“  
  
She shook her head and ran back to the house, slamming the door, before he could finish his sentence.  
  
“Right,” Harry croaked. “About as good as I expected.”  
  
As quickly as possible, Harry ran up to his bedroom, changed, stashed his magazine and forms, then dashed back outside to walk to….he didn’t know where he was going to walk. He just had to get away from the house before he drew attention to himself from Molly. He’d have to tell her and Arthur tonight. He hoped it wasn’t as big of a disaster with them as it had been with Ron and Ginny.  
  
That evening, Harry sat at the kitchen table, trying to compose a letter to Hermione. He hoped that maybe she would sympathize with him and he’d make it through the summer with at least one relationship intact. Ron had refused to come down from his room the entire day. Ginny sat silently in the living room, knitting and refusing to speak any word comprised of more than one syllable. Harry had tried to catch her eye when she had come down the steps, but she made in plainly visible that she wanted nothing to do with him. Harry could tell that Molly sensed the tension within the household, but she didn’t press anyone for details as she prepared dinner.  
  
At six o’clock, Harry heard Molly’s spoon clock spring to life. He looked up and saw Arthur’s spoon jump from work, to travel, to home. A second later he was stepping over the grate and kissing Molly’s cheek. He spotted Harry at the table and his eyes lit up.  
  
“Harry! How was your meeting this morning?’ Arthur asked, tossing his briefcase into the living room and sitting down at the table. “I passed Kingsley earlier and he said he was pleased with the outcome.”  
  
A sudden sobbing sound was emitted from the living room and they both turned in time to see Ginny’s hair streaking up the staircase. Arthur looked at Harry, quizzically.   
  
Harry sighed and said, “It went pretty well. We um…let me go get a few things.” Harry climbed the stairs to his room and returned to the kitchen with all his information on the A.A.A. He handed the magazine to Arthur and sat back down across from him.   
  
Arthur scanned the front cover and started flipping through the catalog. “Blimey Harry,” Arthur said, awestruck. “Kingsley said last week he had stumbled upon a big opportunity for you. Merlin’s beard, I never imagined that this was what he’d been talking about.”  
  
“What’s that dear?’ Molly queried, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached the table.  
  
Arthur gave Harry a look of ‘now or never’, and cleared his throat. “Kingsley offered Harry the chance to attend the Auror Academy of America.”  
  
Molly let out a laugh, unsettlingly identical to Ron’s. “That's sweet of Kingsley to think of Harry’s future, but surely he knows that Harry will be returning to Hogwarts. Why would the minister fill his head with a silly idea like this?”  
  
“It’s not a silly idea,” Harry said, resignedly. “Kingsley didn’t just offer me the opportunity. He secured a spot and I accepted.”  
  
“Preposterous,” Molly declared, flippantly waving her hand. “You haven’t taken any of your N.E.W.T.s. What school would accept an unqualified child?”  
  
“I’m not a child anymore,” Harry said, trying to keep his cool. “And I’m not exactly unqualified either.”  
  
”Molly, darling, this really is an amazing opportunity for Harry. Let’s allow him to explain his decision,” Arthur said, trying to cool the flames before they were all engulfed in the blaze.  
  
Harry found the Los Angeles section of the Academy catalog and started sharing all the information that Kingsley had given him. Molly’s mouth was set in a firm line, but she listened to what Harry had to say. In the end, she looked longingly at a picture labeled Venice beach, and let her finger trace the across a palm tree.  
  
“And you say it’s only for one year?” she asked, looking at him with her intense brown eyes.   
  
“One year,” Harry assured her. “I would return next summer and complete the last two years of training in London.”  
  
Molly sighed. “I can’t say I’m pleased about the choice…but I do understand why you made it. Whatever you need, you have our support.”  
  
Harry was about to leap from his seat to hug her, but a shrill wail shook the walls. “I can’t believe you approve of this!” came a muffled cry, followed by a bedroom door slamming.  
  
Molly looked helplessly at the ceiling and then back to Harry. “She’ll come around, dear.” She reached over and stroked his hair. “Let the shock wear off and she’ll come to her senses.”  
  
Harry was not prepared for the waiting period he would have to endure. Neither Ginny or Ron acknowledged Harry for almost the entire month of June.   
  
Ron, realizing that he couldn’t stay holed up in his room all day, every day, took to waking early and going to work in the Wizarding Wheezes shop. Harry chanced a visit to the shop one day, attempting to talk to Ron on a more neutral turf. When he walked in though, he was greeted by George’s frowning face.  
  
“Sorry mate,” George lamented. “He saw you coming up the street and hightailed it out the back door of the stock room.”  
  
“Yeah, I should have seen that one coming,” Harry accepted, leaning on the counter. Harry glanced around the store and noticed he had come during a lull in business. There was just one teenaged boy listening to Lee Jordan explain the Muggle Magic Tricks products. Harry felt the profound absence of the other half of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. He suddenly realized that he had been so wrapped up in his own tribulations that he had let an obscene amount of time pass since actually talking to George.  
  
“How have you been?” Harry asked, testing the conversational waters.  
  
George looked down for a beat before answering, “Some days are good. Lee being around has helped a lot. Plenty of rough days though, where it’s hard to get out of bed.” George let a bitter laugh. “I’m torn between wanting to change everything so that I’m not constantly reminded of him, but not wanting to change anything because it feels like losing him all over again.” George swiped at his eyes and cleared his throat. “I, um, started seeing a therapist at St. Mungo's once a week and it's actually been an immense relief. I’m free to talk about whatever I want and just get a load off my chest. It’s been a good way for me to work on digging through my grief and anger, without burdening it all on the family.”  
  
George met Harry’s stare and frowned. “I know they’d be happy to talk with me-“ he started to explain.  
  
Harry held up his hand and George stopped. “I’m glad you found a constructive outlet.” George nodded and stood up. “Sorry I scared off your employee,” Harry commented, trying to alleviate the somber moment. He moved to his left as the customer walked up to the till and dumped an armful of merchandise on the counter.  
  
“It’s alright, he’ll feel it in his paycheck,” George said airily. He quickly rung up the total, dropped the kid’s sickles into the draw, and handed back a couple knuts in change. “Come visit us this year on your Hogsmeade weekends. We’ve taken over Zonko’s old shop,” George called as the boy exited. He turned back to Harry and smiled. “I hear we won’t be seeing you there this year.”  
  
“Aye, you heard right,” Harry mumbled.  
  
“Don’t let my git of a brother make you feel an ounce of guilt,” George insisted. “You know he has to sulk and beat himself up, simultaneously making everyone else miserable, before he pulls his head out of his arse. I think Hermione being gone has just made it doubly hard on him.”  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Harry fumed. “When should I expect Ginny to come ‘round? “  
  
“Ooh, Gin’s turned against you too?” George hissed. Harry nodded, miserably. “My sincerest apologies mate. That girl can hold a grudge.”  
  
This, unfortunately, wasn’t an exaggeration on George’s part. Ginny held her grudge and she held it strong. If she wasn’t barricading herself in her bedroom, she was sitting in the living room reading or knitting, making it perfectly clear to Harry that he wasn’t welcomed to join.  
  
Harry busied himself at first with helping Molly around the house with chores. Without anyone to divert his attention as he worked, Harry completed these rather quickly and Molly started shooing him out of the kitchen, insisting he enjoy his summer holiday. So he started trying to fill his time with walks to the pond, popping round the joke shop on Ron’s days off, and writing to Hermione.  
  
Hermione had been successful in locating her parents. Through a bit of creative persuasion, the ministry officials were able to get them to willingly check into the Australian Magical Health Center. They began slowly reversing Hermione’s memory modifying charm, allowing her parents to gradually regain memories of their life in England. She said it would take another week or two before they were fully themselves. Modifying memories was pretty straightforward, but reversing the charm could have dire consequences if not done properly. Allowing them to regain all of their memories, at one time, could cause permanent insanity.  
  
Hermione’s advise for Harry echoed that of Molly and George- let Ron and Ginny accept his decision in their own time. She spent no small amount of ink, though, gushing about how excited she was for him, and that this was, indeed, a fantastic opportunity that he absolutely had to seize, and should feel no shame over it. It made Harry smile, knowing he had at least one of his friends on his side.  
  
Andromeda Tonks was equally pleased to hear that Harry would be “embarking on a grand adventure”. He had called on her and Teddy, one particularly boring afternoon. His godson was nearly three months old now and growing by leaps and bounds. Teddy’s hair had taken to changing color and style to match that of whoever was holding him, so as Harry fed him that afternoon his little tuft of hair turned black and stuck out at ridiculous angles.   
  
“He’ll grow so much while I’m away,” Harry regretted, trying to gently twist the tuft of hair into a neat pile. As soon as he let go, the hair sprang back to its unruly position.  
  
“I’ll be sure to send you plenty of photographs. Actually, while I’m thinking about it,” Andromeda perked up. She bustled over to a closet and pulled out a camera. “Look here and smile boys!” Harry set down the bottle, propped Teddy up on his lap, and smiled as the flash went off. Teddy took that as his cue to spit up all over the leg of Harry’s jeans. Harry placed the gurgling baby in his travel cot and used his wand to siphon off most of the warm goo from his trousers. “I’ll make sure to owl you a copy of that when I get it developed,” Andromeda laughed.  
  
One afternoon, mid-June, Molly caught him after breakfast and asked if Harry would mind cleaning out the shed. She noticed a few gnomes had dug their way in and made a mess of everything. Happy for a productive task, Harry accepted. Two hours later he was standing amidst a mound of quidditch equipment, antique muggle car parts, a collection of worn-out boots, three broken rakes, a rusted spade, Arthur’s muggle toolbox, and Molly’s gardening hat. He had tossed half a dozen struggling gnomes over the stone wall, knowing full well they would clamor back over as soon as his back was turned. Harry repaired the holes the gnomes had dug and placed a charm around the outside in hopes that it would keep the little blighters out. He banished the boots to the rubbish pile, mended the rakes, scoured the spade, and dusted off Molly’s hat.   
  
As he started summoning the objects back to their rightful places, a lumpy heap, in the corner of the shed, caught his eye. Somehow, he hadn’t noticed it during his purge. After placing Ron’s broomstick on its hook, he went to investigate. A quick kick revealed it was a dusty pile of white rope. Harry started lugging it out into the daylight and was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t just rope, but a massive, old hammock. Quickly, he finished summoning the shed’s occupants back inside and then worked on untangling the hammock.  
  
Aside from a couple inches of dirt and some minor rips around the edges, the hammock was in near perfect condition. Harry was able to vanish the dust instantly. The rips proved a bit trickier, at least for him. He was sure Hermione or Ginny, with their knitting skills, could mend them in a heartbeat. Seeing though as how one was several time zones away, and the other refused to acknowledge his presence, he was on his own. In the end, the seams were jagged, but they were stitched together and Harry was proud to see that they held tight when he gave them a tug.   
  
He floated the hammock over the stone wall and secured it between two cherry trees, several yards into the orchard. It turned out to be the perfect hideaway. He had a slightly skewed view of the Burrow, but he could relax in relative obscurity from everyone else. Borrowing a spare pillow from the linen closet, Harry started stealing away to the hammock every afternoon. He’d take a book along, but would inevitably doze off one chapter in. Sometimes a strong breeze would blow through, rocking his little sanctuary, and knocking a few cherries into his lap, which he happily snacked on.  
  
Finally, in the very last week of June, the silence embargo was dropped.  
  
Harry was lounging in the hammock, reading a book. Looking for a laugh, he had snuck away with Molly’s copy of Voyages with Vampires, by his former defense teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart. As he started chapter two, he started to feel his eyelids droop. Harry let the book drop onto his chest and winced. The spot of Voldemort’s killing curse was still slightly sore. He twisted into a comfortable position and let his tiredness win the battle.   
  
Five minutes later, Harry heard the unmistakable sound of breathing and his nose caught a whiff of juniper berries, on the breeze. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know who was hovering over him.  
  
“I’m mad at you,” Ginny blurted.  
  
“I came to assume that much.” Harry opened one eye and looked at her. “Hello, by the way.”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt about going back to school?” Ginny demanded.  
  
Harry exhaled, loudly, and answered, “Because I was afraid I would hurt you and you’d hate me and refuse to talk to me ever again.”  
  
“Well, aren’t you just a walking, talking, self-fulfilling prophecy,” Ginny spat.  
  
Memories of Harry’s fifth year flooded into his forethought. He could tell Ginny was thinking the same, but they left it unspoken.  
  
“Not quite, considering you only said you’re mad at me and that, technically, counts as talking to me,” Harry countered.   
  
“But you still hurt me.”  
  
“I did, and I’m sorry for that.” Harry saw Ginny soften, marginally, but her defenses were still up.  
  
“Is that all you have to say about it?” Ginny pressed on.  
  
Harry groaned and retorted, “What else do you want me to say, Ginny? Do you want me to say I’ll forego the Auror training and come back to school? You want me to agree to sacrifice my happiness, my comfort, my freaking sanity! All to spend a year in a place that will make me nothing by miserable?”  
  
“So I make you miserable then?!” Ginny cried.  
  
“Don’t twist my words,” Harry growled, trying to steady his temper. He mentally counted to ten as he got out of the hammock and stood, facing Ginny. “I can’t go back there. I’d be a hopeless wreck. I wouldn’t be myself and I know, given that situation, I’d end up hurting you even worse. I won’t let myself do that.”  
  
Tears creeped out of Ginny’s eyes and down her cheeks. “So, I’m being ditched again for my own safety?” she sobbed.   
  
Harry stared at her for a moment and then started to laugh. His thick skull finally realized what had been going on in Ginny’s mind the past month. He had assumed that she was angry about the idea of not seeing him every day and having to settle for a long distance relationship. In reality, it seemed as though she had taken Harry’s acceptance to the American school as a breakup.  
  
“Really? You’re just gonna laugh and plunge the knife deeper,” she cried.  
  
“Are you mental woman?” Harry laughed again, walking around the hammock to stand in front of Ginny. “Who said anything about ditching you?”  
  
Ginny started to stammer. “But, you’re going to America. I saw the pictures in that bloody catalog. Gorgeous, tanned, blonde women, in bikinis. I can’t compete with them!”  
  
“You’re right, you can’t,” Harry stated. Ginny cried harder. Harry took her face into his hands and wiped her tears away with his thumbs. Ginny’s sobs ceased in her surprise at the gesture. “You can’t compete because there is no competition. You win, hands down. Every time, I choose you.” He bent low until their noses touched. “This is just something I have to do for myself,” he whispered. “Can you forgive me for being weak and selfish, just this one time?”  
  
Ginny said nothing. Slowly, she tilted her head to the side and gave Harry the kiss he had been craving for a year.


	6. Chapter 6

Once Harry had reconciled with Ginny, he felt like he had shrugged a hippogriff off his shoulders. Ron still wasn’t talking to him, but Harry was hopeful that that would soon change. Hermione had written, on July second, saying she would be coming home the following week. Her parents’ memories had been fully restored and all they had left to do was tie up some last minute loose ends. Ron appeared slightly more chipper after that letter. When Harry said “Good morning,” to him, Ron actually grunted a reply. Though the more Harry thought about it, it could just have easily been Ron’s stomach grumbling. Either way, Harry took it as a sign of progress.  
  
That afternoon, Harry and Ginny took a stroll to the pond after lunch.   
  
“Aren’t you even a little bit scared of going away for so long?” Ginny asked.  
  
Harry grinned and moved closer so he could hold her hand. “Nah. I’ve seen way too many truly terrifying things by now to let a new school scare me.”  
  
“I’m a little scared of being without you for another whole year,” Ginny admitted.  
  
“It’s not like I won’t be free to travel back and forth,” Harry reassured. “I’ll get a break at the holidays, just like you.”  
  
“It just feels so unfair,” Ginny complained. She shook her head vigorously and apologized,” I’m sorry, that came out like a whiny toddler, chucking my toys from the pram.” She sighed and continued, “I just feel like I’ve waited so long for this. It got ripped away from me so suddenly the first time, and now it’s happening again.”  
  
Harry wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to his side. “This is nothing like the first time,” he said firmly. “I promise, this time, I know I’ll be coming home.” He felt Ginny nod her head and smiled as they came upon the pond.   
  
They walked around to the far side and came to a stop under the apple trees. The July sun was hot and sticky, and Harry was thankful for the thick shade, as he laid down in the cool grass.  
  
“Hey, look there,” Ginny giggled. Harry propped himself up on his elbows and followed Ginny’s gesture to an object several feet away. Ron’s lonesome trainer sat among a patch of overgrown clover.   
  
“Guess he’s not missing it that much,” Harry scoffed.  
  
“He was probably so embarrassed that he just went out and got new ones.” Ginny laid down, with her head propped up on Harry’s stomach. After a minute of trying to get comfortable, her restlessness got the best of her and she sat back up. “Let’s swim.”  
  
Harry snorted and looked up at her. “In what?”  
  
“Our clothes,” she answered, as though Harry’s question was the most absurd thing she had heard.  
  
“I’m not swimming in jeans,” Harry replied.  
  
“Yeah, neither am I.”   
  
Harry watched, slightly dumbstruck, as Ginny stood, kicked off her tennis shoes, and shimmied out of her cut off shorts. In just her purple tank top and white panties, she trotted down to the lake. She reached the end of the dock, raised her arms over her head, and dived right in.  
  
Harry scrambled to his feet and down to the edge of the water, just as Ginny emerged with a yelp. “Oh, wow, this feels so much better!” She eyed Harry skeptically. “What are you waiting for?”  
  
“I…just….oh, what the hell,” Harry conceded. He pulled off his shoes, stripped off his sweaty t-shirt, and slid out of his jeans. When he was down to just his boxers, Harry placed his glasses on top of the clothing pile and gingerly waded into the pond. The sudden shock of cold made him shiver. Slowly, he eased himself into the water as his body acclimated to the welcomed temperature change. Ginny glided over to him and placed her fingertips on his chest.  
  
“What happened here?” Ginny coaxed. She let her fingers trail across the bright bruise over his heart, slowly moving up to the oval scar at his collarbone. “These look gruesome.”  
  
“The bruise is from the killing curse,” Harry breathed, shuddering as Ginny’s fingers skimmed back down his chest.  
  
“And it still looks like this, two months later?”  
  
“Madame Pomfrey put numerous salves and lotions on it, but nothing worked,” Harry explained. He was trying to focus on the top of her head as her tank top revealed more than Harry had been prepared for. “It’s not your usual bruise though, is it? A bit more than just getting pelted by a bludger. Madame Pomfrey speculated that because it was a dark curse, the mark would last longer than normal. It has been shrinking. I suspect in another month or so, it’ll be barely noticeable.”  
  
“And this one?” Ginny asked, moving back to the scar and tracing the oval groove.  
  
“The locket we tracked down, that was a Horcrux,” Harry said, placing his hand over hers. “After our run-in with Nagini, in Godric’s Hollow, it had sort of seared to my skin and Hermione couldn’t pry it off without a severing charm. Another dark magic souvenir,” he grimaced. Ginny looked into his eyes and just stared. After a minute Harry squirmed under her scrutiny and said, “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I don’t think you know just how amazing you truly are,” she whispered. Harry started to protest but was quickly silenced by her mouth on his. He reveled in the kiss, pulling her close and holding her tight. When Ginny finally broke the kiss, Harry’s head was spinning and his breath was ragged.  
  
When he was finally able to form a coherent sentence, he breached the silence. “I need to go back to Privet Drive tomorrow and get some things I left behind last year. Will you come with me?”  
  
“Of course,” Ginny answered. “I’ve been curious about your muggle family since Fred and George’s stories at the start of my third year.”  
  
Harry threw his back and laughed heartily. “Oh lord, the sight of that gigantic, purple tongue flopping on the floor will stick with me forever!” Ginny giggled and snuggled her back into Harry’s chest, wrapping his arms around her front. “The noise he made, trying to shove it back in his mouth, I didn’t know humans were capable of producing sounds like that. Dudley had the honor of being the original test dummy of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. Fred and George were over the moon about that little success.” Harry held onto Ginny and floated backward, enjoying being able to talk about Fred with a smile on his face.   
  
The pair stayed in the lake until their hands and feet looked as though they had aged eighty years, and the sun hung low in the sky. Ginny and Harry climbed onto the shore and their teeth instantly started chattering.  
  
“Hold st-t-t-ill,” Harry stuttered, trying to hold his wand straight. Forcing a steady hand, he performed an intricate wave and a stream of hot hair escaped and enveloped Ginny, drying her clothes and hair.   
  
“Ahh, heavenly,” she sighed, fluffing out her hair.  
  
Harry treated himself to the same spell before throwing his clothes on. Ginny bounded up to him, fully dressed and holding Ron’s trainer. They raced back to the Burrow as the sun dipped ever closer to the horizon.   
  
“You’re late,” Molly scolded as Harry and Ginny barreled through the back door. “Go wash up!”   
  
Ginny handed the trainer to Harry and darted upstairs before her mother could question her whereabouts. Ron was sitting at the table, scribbling a note on parchment. Harry saw beside him a stack of four letters, each bearing the Hogwarts seal. Hermione’s prepared reply was resting next to her letter.   
  
Harry waited for Ron to finish and roll up the parchment before plunking the trainer down on the table in front of him. Ron quickly grabbed the shoe and scowled at Harry.  
  
“There’s a pub down in the muggle village. Meet me there for a drink tomorrow night, when you’re done at the shop,” Harry instructed.  
  
“And why would I want to do that?”  
  
“Because we need to talk and you look like you could use a drink.” Harry thumped him on the back and added, “Plus, I’m paying.” He hurried up the staircase before Ron could argue.   
  
The next day, Ginny side-apparated with Harry to a park, on the outskirts of the village of Little Whinging. Harry lead the way through the streets until they turned onto Privet Drive. Ginny suddenly stopped and gazed up and down the street.  
  
“Not very imaginative here, are they?” she said, eyeing up the houses that lined the quiet road. Except for the vibrant hues of the varying flowers in the front gardens, each house was identical to the next. “It looks quite boring.”  
  
“You’ve just summed up my early childhood, darling,” Harry snorted. They made their way to number four and Harry was amused to see that his aunt had wasted no time replanting her agapanthus and pansies. He stepped up to the door, but couldn’t bring himself to knock. As he was giving himself a mental pep talk, Ginny huffed and gave the door three hard raps.  
  
Seconds later, the door opened to reveal Petunia, wearing her scrubbing gloves and a look of shock on her face.  
  
“Hello, Aunt Petunia," Harry greeted, keeping his pleasantries as formal as he could. "Sorry to drop by announced. If it isn’t any trouble, I’d like to gather up the last of my things from the bedroom.”   
  
Petunia hesitated for a moment before opening the door all the way and stepping aside. “No, no trouble at all. Please, come in,” she said.  
  
Harry and Ginny stepped inside and Petunia shut the door behind them.   
  
“Who is it?” Vernon called from the kitchen.  
  
“It’s Harry, dear,” Petunia answered.  
  
Harry heard a gurgling, choking sound and then the scrape of kitchen chairs. Harry and Ginny had apparently interrupted lunchtime. Ginny grasped his hand and took a tentative step backward. Vernon burst through the kitchen door, his eyes narrowed and suspicious. Harry could see Dudley trying to peer over his father’s head.   
  
Vernon looked as though he was about to explode on Harry, but before he could get one word out Petunia held up her hand and spoke first. “Harry is just here to clear the rest of his belongings from the bedroom. If we just give him and-“ she stopped, looking at Ginny and realizing they hadn’t been introduced.  
  
“Ginny,” Harry, finished for her. “Ginny Weasley. You met her dad and brothers a few years back.” Vernon’s face turned red as Harry imagined visions of the destroyed fireplace and Ton-Tongue raced through his mind. “Ginny, this is my Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and cousin, Dudley.”  
  
Dudley finally shoved his way past Vernon and stood in front of Harry. The time away had been good to Dudley. He had grown six inches and shed about four stone. His blond hair was shaggy and reached his shoulders.  
  
In a move that shocked everyone, Dudley held his hand out to Ginny and said, “Nice to meet you.” Ginny let go of Harry’s hand and reached out to shake Dudley’s. “Harry,” Dudley continued, reaching out for Harry’s hand. “Glad to see you’re safe.”  
  
“Yeah, thanks,” Harry said, slightly stupefied. He shook Dudley’s hand and said, “Same to you. You’re looking fit.” Dudley nodded and smiled. “Right, I’ll just go grab my stuff and we’ll be on our way.”  
  
“There are a few empty boxes in there that you’re welcome to use,” Petunia called as Harry and Ginny climbed the steps.  
  
“That was an unexpected welcome,” Harry whispered. Vernon’s reaction had been exactly what Harry was prepared for. He knew that if Petunia hadn’t stepped in, Vernon would have unleashed a tirade about the nerve Harry had returning to his house, after all that Harry had put him and his family through. Harry was not ready to be defended by his aunt, or to be welcomed by his cousin like an old friend. As nice as they had been, it was unsettling after almost two decades of being ignored.  
  
Harry opened the door to the smallest bedroom. Besides some empty cardboard boxes, tossed against the wall, nothing had been touched. All his old spell books were still piled on the small, corner desk. He opened the small wardrobe and found a bag of Dudley’s hand-me-downs that Petunia used to force on him. Hanging up were a few school robes that he had long outgrown.  
  
“Not a bad room,” Ginny commented, pulling back the curtains back. A cloud of dust exploded sending her into a sneezing fit.  
  
“Bless you. Wasn’t always my room though. Used to be Dudley’s second bedroom.”  
  
“Second bedroom?” Ginny asked in disbelief. Harry knew the idea seemed preposterous to her, growing up in a house that could have always done with an extra bedroom or two. “So then you two shared a room growing up?”   
  
Harry laughed, dryly. “Oh, god no. Did you happen to catch a glimpse of the little cupboard, under the stairway?”   
  
“They didn’t!” Ginny exclaimed. “Oh Harry, I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be. It keeps me grounded,” Harry replied with a wink. “Should my ego ever get too big, I need only to remind myself that for eleven years my best friends were spiders and dust bunnies.”   
  
Harry turned and started focusing on clearing out the wardrobe. He pulled out the bag of clothes and tossed them to the side. “That goes to the rubbish bin,” he declared. He pulled out the robes, folded them up and placed them in a box. “We’ll use this box for things to get donated.”   
  
Harry dragged the box to his desk and Ginny brought over an empty one for a ‘keep’ pile. Most of his old school books were got dropped into the donation box. “Glad to be rid of this one,” he muttered, tossing Unfogging the Future into the donate box while pitching Wandering with Werewolves into the keep pile.  
  
Ginny gave him an incredulous look and said, “Lockhart? Really?”  
  
Harry shrugged and said, “The man knows how to spin an interesting tale.” Ginny smirked and opened up the desk drawers. She threw empty ink bottles, ripped parchment, and broken quills onto the mounting trash pile. He glanced up from Hogwarts, A History when he heard a clink of metal. Ginny had found an unopened tin of owl treats. Harry frowned and threw them into the keep box. “Pig and Errol will make short work of those.”  
  
Ten minutes later, Harry and Ginny lumbered back down the stairs with the boxes and garbage. Harry nipped outside to chuck the trash in the bin and came back in to find Ginny standing awkwardly in the kitchen, accepting a cup of tea from Petunia. She glanced at Harry and raised her eyebrows as she took a sip. Dudley was sitting at the table with a sandwich, reading the paper. Vernon had disappeared to the back garden.  
  
Harry cleared his throat and announced, “Right then, the bedroom is all clear. No sign of it ever being occupied by a freak.” Harry saw Petunia twitch in response to his comment. He dug a crumpled piece of parchment out of his pocket and smoothed it out. He handed it to Petunia, who looked at it quizzically. “This autumn I’ll be starting at a sort of university, in America, for ‘our kind’. Should you need to get in contact, that is the muggle post address you can reach me at.” Petunia nodded and folded it up.   
  
Dudley crossed the kitchen and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Good luck, Harry.”  
  
“Thanks. You have any post-grad plans?” Harry asked, lifting up the boxes.  
  
“Be headin’ to Royal Holloway come September,” Dudley answered, puffing out his chest a bit, obviously proud of his acceptance.  
  
“Brilliant, congratulations,” Harry said, truly pleased for his cousin’s accomplishments. “Keep in touch and let me know how that goes.” He gave a quick nod and started for the door. Ginny was just opening it when Harry heard his name called.  
  
Petunia was in the middle of the room, twisting her apron tightly in her hands. Harry looked back at her but said nothing.  
  
“Harry, I’m….I’m sorry,” Petunia whispered. Harry put the boxes down and took a step forward. She cleared her throat and continued, a bit more loudly. “Growing up, Lily was my best friend. When she got that letter from Hogwarts, I felt like I was losing my other half. I couldn’t really blame her for embracing a new experience, so I blamed the school for taking her away. It left me bitter and drove us apart." She paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "When she and your father were killed, I started blaming her for getting mixed up with the wrong people. I blamed your father for not protecting her better. As silly as it sounds, I blamed magic because that is what had taken my sister from me. But… I never had the courage to blame myself. I don’t know if things would have turned out different, but maybe, if I hadn’t have shunned her, or swallowed my stupid pride, I would have been the one she would have trusted with her secret. Maybe I could have kept her safe.” Petunia sniffed and dabbed her eyes with the apron.   
  
“Then you showed up on our doorstep and every day I had to stare into her eyes," Petunia continued, obviously intent on getting years of repression off her chest. " I was filled with so much hate, for so many things, but mainly myself. I ended up taking it out on you, convincing myself that you were the source of my misery. If you weren’t in my life then I could have buried all that guilt and never had to think about it. But, there you were, my constant reminder of every regret.” She apprehensively inched closer to Harry. “I’m not trying to excuse my attitude or behavior, there is none. But, after all these years, I thought you deserved an explanation.”  
  
Harry was flabbergasted. He had caught a brief glimpse of Petunia and his mother’s relationship, through Snape’s memories, and could tell that the sister’s had shared a bond. He was never aware that Petunia had, and still did, harbor such guilt after the bond was severed. She never spoke of Lily, and growing up, Harry quickly learned not to ask about her.  
  
Overcome with sadness for his aunt, Harry closed the distance between them and hugged her. She let out a tiny gasp but returned the embrace.   
  
After a moment, she held him at arm’s length and studied his eyes with a mournful longing. “If what that squeaky little wizard told us is true, I know you’ve made her proud,” Petunia concluded. “Make sure you take care of yourself.”  
  
Harry was at such a loss for words all he could do was nod. Petunia waved to Ginny as Harry gathered the boxes. She walked them to the door, closing it softly after they had exited. Harry sat down on the front stoop, still reeling from his aunt’s confession. Ginny knelt down in front of him and held his hands until he was ready to make the journey home.   
  
“Well, that was surreal, to say the least,” Harry muttered, getting to his feet and lifting the boxes once more. He and Ginny started off down the street.  
  
“Here, let me carry one,” Ginny offered, holding out her arms.  
  
“Sure, catch!” Harry called and he threw both boxes to her.  
  
“Harry Potter!” Ginny screamed. A second later, both boxes landed softly in her arms.  
  
Harry burst into laughter. “I put a feather-light charm on them in the kitchen,” he explained, taking the top box back.  
  
“Prat,” Ginny fumed, booting him the shin.   
  
By the time they got to the park, Harry had successfully begged forgiveness and they apparated back to the Burrow. Harry stashed the boxes in his room and freshened up. He changed into clean jeans, a crisp, purple button-down shirt, and dabbed on some cologne. He rarely used cologne, but feared he smelled of sweat and Petunia’s cleaning solution. If he chanced a shower, he’d be late meeting Ron.  
  
Ginny was still in the kitchen, pulling out pots and pans for dinner when Harry came down the steps.   
  
“Hey there, handsome. You look nice” Ginny purred, sauntering over to him. “Smell nice too,” she said, nuzzling his neck.  
  
“Mmm,” Harry groaned. “I’m on a schedule and you’re throwing all these wonderful distractions at me.” She started kissing him and he went weak in the knees. He returned her kiss but broke it quickly. “I’m already on thin ice with your brother. If I’m late, due to snogging his little sister, I fear the damage may be irreparable.” Harry finished buttoning his cuffs and kissed Ginny’s forehead. “Plus, your mother scares the pants off me and you know she’ll be in here any minute.”  
  
“I could scare the pants off you,” Ginny suggested, slipping her hands into his pockets.  
  
“Dammit, woman!” Harry kissed her once more and she released him. “I’ll see you later tonight,” he breathed.   
  
Harry rushed out the back door and trotted down the lane towards the little village of Ottery St. Catchpole. He found Ron pacing in front of a tiny pub, The Frog Prince.   
  
“You’re late,” Ron mumbled.  
  
“According to my watch, you’re early,” Harry replied, opening the door.  
  
Ron checked his own wrist as they weaved their way to a table in the corner.   
  
“Huh, we got through the stock check quick tonight.” Ron shrugged off his jacket as a waitress set two menus down in front of them.   
  
They silently studied the menu until the waitress returned for their orders.  
  
“I’ll have the fish and chips please, with a pint of lager,” Harry requested, handing over his menu.  
  
“Could I get the roast beef, with mash and broccoli. Also, a double order of Yorkshire pudding with extra gravy.” Ron handed the menu over and added, “Oh, and a pint of bitter, please.” The waitress bustled back to the kitchen. Ron turned to Harry and said, “Well, you got me here. What did you want to say?”  
  
“You’re being an arse,” Harry stated bluntly.  
  
“Don’t pull your punches now, mate. Tell me how you really feel,” Ron muttered.  
  
“Look, I know that you feel I’m being a selfish prick, running off to America,” Harry started. “But I’m finally at a point where I can make a selfish choice and not have there be any dire results because of it. This is the first time I feel like I’m in control of my life, and not beholden to a prophecy or fulfilling an unspoken obligation to the wizarding world. I’m sorry if I made you feel like yesterday’s news, but if you know me at all, you know that that wasn’t my intent.”  
  
Their drinks arrived and Ron chugged half of his in one go.  
  
“After all we’ve been through together, everything we’ve battled…”Harry trailed off, his throat constricting. “You’re my best friend. You really think I’d chuck you out of my life now?”  
  
Ron slumped back in his chair and sighed. “Course not. I’m just…I’m not a big fan of change, ya know. I thrive on consistency.” He took a gulp of his beer and continued, “And now I feel like everything is changing so fast. When McGonagall gave us the option to have a proper seventh year, I was elated. The thought of N.E.W.T.s scared me, and still make me queasy if I dwell, but we would be back where we belonged! Then you said you weren’t going back and I realized that you were right about how Hogwarts won’t feel like the school we remember. Then knowing we’d be going back still, even without you, it had me second guessing my choices.  
  
“How so?” Harry asked, sipping his beer.  
  
“It got me thinking that maybe the only reason I wanted to go back in the first place was to slow the inevitable. Pushing back the fact that at some point I have to admit that I’m an adult and need to sort out my priorities” Ron said with a grin. “It’s quite daunting to look into the future and have no idea what the hell you want to do with your life.”  
  
“There’s no shame in not knowing what you want to do. It’s not like Hermione or Ginny, or even I have our whole futures mapped out. Trial and error mate. Being an Auror is something that intrigues me, but there’s always the possibility that I’ll get through this first year and want nothing to do with it,” Harry took a pull of his beer. “And that’s okay,” Harry continued, letting out a belch. “Just because you choose one path, doesn’t mean you’re locked into it forever. Plus, you’ll have Hermione there. You know she won’t stand by and let you fail your exams or not push your arse to pursue something.”  
  
“That’s another thing that worries me about you know being around,” Ron complained.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Look, I love Hermione, and have for years,” Ron insisted. “But you know what we’re like. What happens when we have a row and you’re not there to beat some sense into us?”  
  
“Here’s what you do,” Harry said, leaning in. “You listen to Hermione, you stubborn prat. You know she’s usually right. …Don’t tell her I said that though.” Harry leaned back to make way for the arrival of their meals. He loaded up his fish with tartar sauce and continued, “Seriously, though, you’ll be fine. When you both put away your stubbornness, you work really well together.”  
  
“You should write an advice column for the Prophet,” Ron laughed, dumping gravy over everything on his plate.  
  
“Yeah, Rita Skeeter and I would make a good team,” Harry snorted.  
  
Ron grinned and shoved a forkful of Yorkshire pudding and beef into his mouth. They tucked into their dinners and the conversation switched to next month’s Quidditch World Cup. The waitress refilled their drinks several times while Ron discussed, in detail, why the Malawi underdogs would end up flattening Senegal, who had been favored to win since the quarterfinals.  
  
“I put twenny galleons on it lass week,” Ron slurred. “So…so….so they bloody well better win.”  
  
Harry laughed so hard he tired himself out and had to rest his forehead on the table.  
  
Ron exhaled loud and slow, then thumped Harry on the back.  
  
“I’m gonna miss ya mate,” Ron admitted quietly. “I know why yer’ leavin’ though, and hope you’re able to find the dull, peasant life that ye’ seek.”  
  
“Cheers to that mate.” Harry raised his glass to meet Ron’s and finished off his lager.  
  
Ron looked down at his watch, eyes not quite focusing, and swore. “I don’t know if I’m reading thish right, but I shink tits a bit late.”  
  
Harry howled with laughter and tears streamed down his face. “You said tits,” he wheezed.  
  
“Did not,” Ron protested. “Did I?”  
  
“You did,” Harry said, trying to bring his laughter under control. He looked up and caught the unhappy look of their waitress. “Oh, shit, we should hit the road before our arses get the boot.” Harry stood up, tossed a generous amount of muggle pounds onto the table, then he and Ron stumbled out into the refreshing night air.   
  
They slowly made their way back towards the lane, leading to the Burrow. Once they reached the end of the street lights, Ron pulled out his wand and suggested they just apparate the rest of the way.  
  
“No!” Harry screamed, scaring Ron and himself. “We’ll bloody well splinch ourselves,” Harry hissed. “There’s no way you can concentrate on the Three Ds in your state.”  
  
“Me? What about you?” Ron scoffed. “You probably couldn’t even recite the Three Ds.”  
  
“Peesh of cake,” Harry boasted. “Destination,” he said, holding up one finger. “Dee….Deet..detrimental!” Harry held up a second finger. “And…..desolation!” Harry said proudly, waving five fingers in the air.  
  
“Total perfection,” Ron laughed, giving Harry a round of applause. They spent the rest of their journey trying to come up with as many D words as they could.  
  
“Deliberation,” Harry said, opening up the back door. “Hey! I think that actually might be one of the three…” He trailed off when he saw Ginny sitting at the table.   
  
“Hello boys,” she drawled, smirking.  
  
“I’m starving! Are there any leftovers from dinner?” Ron asked, opening the fridge and rummaging through. “Oooh, trifle!” He grabbed a fork, called out, “Night!”, and disappeared up the stairs.  
  
Harry sat down next to Ginny, grinning foolishly. “You’re pissed as a newt,” she accused.  
  
Harry shook his head and said, “Yes, I am.” He picked up the Hogwarts letter addressed to him. “Do you have a quill handy?”  
  
“I really don’t think I should arm you with sharp objects,” Ginny answered. “What on earth do you want a quill for right now anyway?”  
  
“I need to send McGonagall my regretful reply!” He spied a quill on top of Arthur’s unfinished Daily Prophet crossword. He made a grab for it, but Ginny was quicker. “Come on, just let me write three lines!”  
  
“If you write to McGonagall now, I’ll tell her you were drunk when you did it. And then she’ll give you a detention,” Ginny threatened.  
  
“That’s harsh, Ginevra.”  
  
“You’ll thank me in the morning,” Ginny concluded. She got up, rummaged through the remedy potion cabinet, and handed Harry a small blue bottle. “Take this and go sleep it off, sweetheart.”


	7. Chapter 7

_Dumbledore informing him that it was all an elaborate hoax….Ron and Hermione leaving him burned, and buried alive, under fake treasure, in the Lestrange vault…..Voldemort slowly peeling off his face to reveal Sirius, cackling mockingly…..Dobby apparating him to Riddle’s cliffside cave and leaving him stranded in the middle of the lake, as Inferi slowly crawled out of the still water and silently strangled him…._  
  
  
Harry continued to be plagued by nightmares every evening. Molly gave him numerous sleeping potions, each one stronger than the last, but nothing could silence his subconscious. Inevitably he would wake, several times through the night, soaked in sweat and his heart racing.   
  
The hammock seemed to be the only exception. Rocking in the breeze, usually with Ginny by his side, Harry was mercifully able to drift off into a dreamless slumber, for an hour or two.   
  
One such lazy afternoon, Harry had just dozed off when the air was rent by a slamming door and a familiar voice yelling, “Hello? Is anyone here?”  
  
“Hermione!” Ginny screamed. She bolted out of the hammock and darted for the house, leaving Harry swaying, dazed and confused, with a shower of cherries raining down on him.   
  
It took him a full minute to regain his senses before he was able to stumble out of the orchard. The two girls were hugging and talking so fast that Harry could only make out every other word or so.   
  
“Harry!” Hermione called as Harry scaled the wall. “You look rough,” she quipped, pulling him in for a hug.  
  
“Hello to you too,” he chuckled.  
  
“Still having nightmares?” Hermione asked, studying the shadows under his eyes.  
  
“Only every night,” Harry replied, rubbing his neck. “That’s nothing new though. How are you? Nobody was expecting to see you until tomorrow.”  
  
“I know, but we got back a day early, so I thought I’d drop by and surprise everyone.”  
  
The trio migrated to the kitchen as Hermione started filling them in about Australia and the process her parents had to undergo in getting their memories restored.  
  
“That sounds exhausting,” Ginny said, frowning. “Was it painful for them?”  
  
“Physically, no,” Hermione answered. “But the emotional distress was really hard. You could see it on their faces when a particularly bad experience was recovered like my grandparents passing,” she said, her voiced straining. Ginny passed a box of tissues across the table and Hermione blew her nose. After a moment, she continued, “It’s because of things like that, that the process has to be done gradually. Letting a person regain every single memory in one day would send anyone into a nervous breakdown. There…..there were times when I wondered if I was doing the right thing….making them relive everything…..”  
  
“Of course you made the right choice,” Ginny assured her. “How could you not bring your parents home?”  
  
“Because they were happy there,” she whispered. “I watched them relive half a century of experiences, many that I wasn’t even aware of. The good, the bad…I saw it all. It felt insanely selfish of me, putting them through that. But I couldn’t bear not having my mum and dad in my life. I couldn’t imagine not having them around when I finally graduate, or get married, or have children. I needed them back.”  
  
“There’s nothing selfish about wanting your parents in your life,” Harry insisted. Through her tears, Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile. “Are they happy to be back with you?”  
  
“They seem to be,” Hermione said slowly. “I mean, they keep telling me that they’re glad I came back for them. They’re looking into rebuilding their dental practice, and want me to bring Ron over for Sunday dinner. It’s just…..I know they were happy in their other life….and knowing that I caused them so much pain-“  
  
“Hermione, stop,” Harry said, grabbing her hand. “Your parents love you. You’ve got to stop beating yourself up over it, or you’ll drive yourself mad. New rule- no more guilt trips for going after what we want, what we need, in life. We’ve all been doing it lately and if we continue on, all of us will end up in an asylum.” Harry exhaled slowly and stood up. “Sorry for that bit of tough love.”  
  
Hermione sobbed and flung herself at him.   
  
Harry hugged her tightly and said, “I’m happy everyone got back safely,” He patted her back and leaned back. “How about we take a trip to Diagon Alley?”  
  
“I take it you and Ron talked things through?” Hermione sniffled, dabbing her eyes and picking up her purse.  
  
“Of course,” Harry replied nonchalantly, “I just needed to get a few pints in him and we’re best mates again.”  
  
“A ‘few’ pints in both of them,” Ginny corrected.   
  
Hermione giggle and sighed, “I missed you guys so much!”  
  
A few minutes later they were strolling up the cobbled street, to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. Hermione opened the door and Ron looked up at the sound of the tinkling bell.  
  
“Hermione?” Ron said, slightly bewildered.   
  
Hermione didn’t say a word. She ran for Ron, jumped into his arms, and kissed him hard, giving no sign that the affectionate reunion would be brief.  
  
George casually pushed them behind the stockroom curtain. “Don’t want to scare our customers now, do we?”  
  
“When they come up for air, send ‘em to the Leaky Cauldron, for lunch,” Harry said, opening the door. “Want us to bring you anything?”  
  
“Yeah, make sure Casanova comes back with some soup and kippers,” George instructed.  
  
Harry and Ginny turned right, starting off for the Leaky Cauldron. As they walked past Broomstix, Harry slowed and ogled the racing brooms in the window. It had been over a year since he last flew. His Firebolt had been lost in his escape from Privet Drive, and he never got a chance to replace it. He had had the urge to take Ron’s Cleansweep for a spin, the day he cleaned out the shed, but the fear of being jinxed had kept his feet on the ground. Harry grabbed Ginny’s hand and pulled her into the shop.  
  
Half an hour later, Harry’s pockets were considerably lighter and he was beaming at his new Firebolt. He had gone over every broom available, comparing features, seriously considering going back to a Nimbus for a moment. But when he picked up the Firebolt, it just felt right in his hand. The shopkeeper touted it as a Firebolt 2.0, though that wasn’t it’s official name. But, he explained to Harry, that over the last few years. it had gotten a few minor tweaks, like upgrading the handle from ash to ebony. It also now went from naught to one hundred and fifty-five miles per hour, outstripping its predecessor by five miles.   
  
“You think they play Quidditch in America?” Harry wondered as they reached The Leaky Cauldron.  
  
“I remember Dad saying something about American wizards devoted to a game called Quodpot,” Ginny answered.  
  
“What the hell is Quodpot?”  
  
“Don’t know exactly. Dad said that back in the 70’s a few wizards tried to popularize it here. It never caught on though, obviously. Maybe Flourish and Blotts has a book on it?”   
  
“Oi, where have you been?” Ron called from the back of the pub. Harry held up his broomstick and Ron grinned. “Brilliant! Fancy a game when I’m done work?”  
  
“I certainly didn’t buy it as a fashion accessory,” Harry stated. He and Ginny took their seats just as Tom sidled over to take their orders.   
  
Once Butterbeers had been summoned and Tom hurried off to the kitchen, Hermione slapped a new, thick, daily planner on the table and brandished a shimmering, peacock feathered quill. She lost herself in the planner, scratching various notes here and there. Harry and Ginny listened as Ron told them about what’s been going on at the shop and some of the new stuff he started working on with George.  
  
“I’m enjoying it more than I thought I would,” Ron said, draining the last of his Butterbeer. “At first it was an excuse to escape from things.” He threw a guilty look at Harry. “But, it’s been really fun running the shop with George, and seeing how all the products work.”  
  
Their food arrived and Hermione finally gave her quill a rest.  
  
“You do know you haven’t been set any homework yet, right?” Harry joked, stirring up his pea soup.  
  
Hermione gave him a cross look before answering, “Of course I know that. I’ve just been looking at timetables and thinking about upcoming birthdays,” she said, raising her eyebrows at Harry and Ginny. “I have an idea that I think would actually be quite fun.”  
  
Ron and Harry exchanged worried glances.   
  
“Go on then,” Ron said, slowly  
  
“I thought, that instead of celebrating your birthdays separately, we could celebrate them together, on Ginny’s birthday,” Hermione suggested. Her eyes gleamed as she continued. “A new muggle-themed, dance club opened up in Wimborne. I thought it would make for a really fun night!”  
  
“I don’t dance,” Harry stated.  
  
“Oh, please. You danced fine at the Yule Ball,” Hermione insisted.  
  
Ginny laughed and said,”Hermione, you must have been under the spell of a certain Quid-“ She was cut off by Ron’s murderous glare and backpedaled quickly. “I mean, don’t you remember how awkward he was with Parvati? It was a bit painful to watch.”  
  
“She speaks a hard truth,” Harry attested, stuffing a chunk of bread in his mouth.  
  
“You’ll be fine,” Hermione said, attempting to get the conversation back on track. “If we wait until August 11, then Ginny will be of age and we can all go out together and celebrate. I was thinking that maybe we could invite a few others, like Neville and Luna, and have a bit of a send-off for Harry, too.”  
  
“I think it sounds like a brilliant idea, Hermione!” Ginny exclaimed. “Where did you hear about this club?”  
  
“The Good News section of the Daily Prophet,” Hermione said, incredulously. “Honestly, I’m out of the country for a month, and still know more about what’s going on around here than you lot.”  
  
“I try to stay clear of the Prophet,” Harry muttered.  
  
“Anyway,” Hermione huffed. “They had a small review of it and it’s getting quite popular. They play music from muggle bands and serve muggle cocktails.”  
  
Ron looked at her confused. “You were raised by muggles. How is any of this interesting to you?”  
  
Hermione was trying to keep calm but was obviously getting frustrated by the second. “I thought it would be fun to see the wizarding take on a Muggle nightclub. But if you’re just going to complain then we can do the usual, boring birthday dinner and cake.”  
  
“No, we’re doing this!” Ginny insisted, elbowing Harry's side, harder than he felt was warranted.   
  
“Of course,” Harry agreed. “We’ll dress in our muggle best and go tear up the night.”  
  
Hermione smiled, gratefully. “Ginny, I thought you and I could take a day and go into Muggle London. We’ll shop, have lunch, maybe catch a show.”  
  
“Sounds lovely, count me in,” Ginny said as she finished her pork pie.   
  
Tom came back with George’s lunch and Ron stood up. “Alright, I’m off,” he declared, quickly kissing Hermione. “See you guys later tonight.”  
  
Harry, Hermione, and Ginny paid their tab, and then stopped at Florean Fortescue’s for ice cream, before heading back to the Burrow.   
  
Ginny and Hermione started going over their supply lists for the upcoming year. Harry was in the sitting room, admiring his broomstick when a large barn owl swooped in the window. The owl dropped a thick envelope on Harry’s head, before soaring back out.  
  
Harry peeled away the purple ministry seal and found his orientation packet for the A.A.A. There was a welcome letter, congratulating him on his fine educational choice and assuring him of a bright future. A second parchment detailed his course schedule for the school year. It was broken into two terms, fall and spring, and different classes for each term.   
  
The items that took up the bulk of the package were a t-shirt with A.A.A. embroidered in red, white, and blue, and a booklet devoted to the Los Angeles campus. It toured the magical facilities and gave suggestions for popular spots around the city, both muggle and wizarding. There were course descriptions and biographies of all the professors. New students were encouraged to attend a “freshman meet and greet banquet” on Saturday, September fifth.   
  
The final piece of parchment in the envelope was a personal letter from Kingsley:  
  
  
  
“Dear Harry,  
  
  
  
I hope this letter finds you well and making the most out of your summer holidays. I’m pleased to inform you that you’re now an official student at the Auror Academy of America. It really is a unique opportunity and I urge you to take advantage of everything it offers, both in and outside the classroom.  
  
I have arranged for your travels to begin the morning of Friday, September fourth, to allow you the chance to enjoy the orientation festivities. Your personal effects will be sent along the evening before. You’ll find them waiting in your dormitory upon your arrival. Your first portkey is scheduled for nine o’clock, a.m.. Please arrive at the Department for Magical Transportation no later than eight-fifteen, to prepare for your departure.  
  
Finally, Harry, I want to let you know that I have confided your plans to only a few key people here. You are, of course, free to tell whoever you would like. I just want to reassure you that I’ve done my very best to make sure the press doesn’t find out and that you can have a peaceful school year.  
  
  
  
Best Wishes,  
  
Kingsley Shacklebolt  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry gathered everything up and went into the kitchen, to join the girls at the table.  
  
“We were just talking, Harry,” Hermione started, turning a few pages back in her planner. “And on Ron’s next day off, we’re going to meet up in Diagon Alley to get all our supplies. Would you like to join us?”  
  
“Yeah, I’d actually like to pick up a few books at Flourish and Blotts,” Harry answered. He held up the contents of his mail and said, “Kingsley just sent along all the information for the Auror Academy.” Harry caught a glance at Ginny’s shoulders slumping at his news.  
  
“I thought the ministry told you all your books were being taken care of?” Hermione asked.  
  
“They are,” Harry assured. “But, if I could, I’d like to take a peek at your book lists, and maybe get copies of them to go along with my course materials. I’m really nervous about having such a big gap in my studies.”  
  
“I’m sure you’ll do great,” Ginny quietly reassured.   
  
“There are just a few subjects I’d like to brush up on before being thrown into the thick of it all, like Potions and Transfiguration,” Harry continued on. “I got by in those classes, but I wouldn’t say I excelled.”  
  
Hermione had picked up the welcome book and was paging through, eyes alight.   
  
“Harry, this looks amazing,” she gushed. “Look at the accomplishments of all these professors! And you get your own cute, little flat in the dormitory.” She turned a few more pages and gasped, “And it’s all right along the beach! I can’t imagine ever wanting to leave a place like this!”  
  
A strangled sob escaped from Ginny and Harry sent a spurning glare at Hermione.  
  
“But, I mean, of course, Harry will want to!” Hermione tried to quickly cover her remarks. “I’m sure the constant sunshine gets a bit boring after a while.”  
  
Ginny’s chair scraped harshly over the tile. “Excuse me,” Ginny gulped. She stood and hurried out the back door.  
  
Harry let his forehead thud against the wooden table.  
  
“I’m so sorry Harry,” Hermione moaned. “I got so excited for you and didn’t even think about what the bloody hell I was saying. I’ll go talk to her.”   
  
“No,” Harry groaned. He turned his face to look at her, head still on the table. “I’m a lousy boyfriend. I really wish I had a time turner at the moment.”  
  
“Would you really choose not to go to America, if you could go back in time?” Hermione asked.  
  
Harry exhaled loudly. “No, it’s not that. I would go back and include Ginny in the decision-making process instead of just springing the news like I did” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I have a lot to learn about the intricacies of relationships.”  
  
“You’ll both get there,” Hermione assured, patting Harry’s head.  
  
“Thanks,” Harry pulled himself from the table and got to his feet. He slowly made his way out the back door, and into the orchard. He found Ginny lying in the hammock, staring at the sky.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, sitting down on the grass. He gave the hammock a gentle push and sent it swaying.  
  
“For what?” Ginny croaked. “No one did anything. I just had a moment of weakness.”  
  
“Ginevra Weasley, you are anything but weak,” Harry insisted. “I’m sorry because I should have included you in my decision to study in America. It was a shit move, to leave you out of something so important. It’s not how you treat someone you love.”  
  
Ginny rolled onto her side to look at Harry. “You love me?”  
  
“The fact that you’re questioning it just confirms that I am, indeed, a lousy boyfriend,” Harry sighed, with a half smile.  
  
“No,” Ginny whispered. “You’re not lousy.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him to the hammock. He crawled in and wrapped his arm around her waist. “You might be a little impetuous at times, and while it can be frustrating, it’s also one of the reasons that I love you.”  
  
Harry kissed her, long and slow, savoring every sweet moment.  
  
Ginny was the first to pull away. “Promise me you’ll come back,” she whispered, her lips still on his.  
  
“Promise.”  
  
“And promise me you’ll write to me, all the time.”  
  
“Twice a day, if you like,” Harry grinned.  
  
“Some of us have lives, Potter,” Ginny chided. “Once a week, at least.”  
  
“Once a week,” Harry agreed.  
  
Ginny laid her head of Harry’s chest and took a deep breath as a sudden breeze rocked the hammock.  
  
“Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you. Tomorrow I’ll miss you,” Harry started to sing, stroking Ginny’s hair. “Remember I’ll always be true.”  
  
Ginny chuckled softly and said, “I think your talents might be wasted as an Auror.”  
  
“I can’t take credit for that,” Harry laughed. “It’s the work of a genius muggle band, The Beatles. An old neighbor, on Privet Drive, used to play their records often, and I would listen at the fence.”  
  
“Can I hear more?” Ginny urged.  
  
“I’ll pretend that I’m kissing, the lips I am missing, and hope that my dreams will come true,” Harry crooned. “And then while I’m away, I’ll write home every day, and I’ll send all my loving to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song lyrics are from the song 'All My Loving', written by Lennon and McCartney


	8. Chapter 8

Ron’s next day off fell on the following Tuesday. They all agreed to meet at Wizarding Wheezes, after lunch, and spend the afternoon shopping. A slow panic started to creep over Harry as he realized that he had no idea what to get Ginny for her birthday.   
  
“When you see the right thing, you’ll know,” Hermione had assured him when Harry asked for suggestions.  
  
Harry wanted to tell her exactly how much help she was, but he bit his tongue and just nodded. After all these years, he knew exactly what gifts to get his friends. Ron was chuffed with anything related to his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudleigh Cannons. For Hermione, anything that boosted her organizational skills or expanded her knowledge was received with excitement. But when it came to Ginny, all the contents in Harry’s mind seemed to leak out, and he was left lacking.  
  
Tuesday came and Ron, Harry, and Ginny apparated directly into the stockroom of the shop. When they came through the curtain, they found George trying to talk Hermione into a few of the new Daydream Charms.  
  
“Do you honestly think I’ll have any time this year for daydreams?” Hermione asked, exasperated. “They’re called NASTILY EXHAUSTIVE Wizarding Tests for a reason.”  
  
“Tell you what,” George bargained, picking up a box. “This one’s on the house. When you want to shut your brain down, and I promise that you will give it a go. I bet you ten galleons, you show up in Hogsmeade for five more.”  
  
Hermione eyed the box suspiciously, before accepting the box and hastily shoving it into her bag. “Let’s get going, shall we?” Hermione insisted.  
  
The group set out along the virtually empty street. They passed a few elderly wizards and witches, sitting on benches, just watching the passing shoppers. A harried witch, arms loaded with packages, was trying to coax a toddler away from the window of a toy shop. “Rory, come along,” she pleaded. “Look! Mummy’s got a Chocolate Frog in her bag!” The promise of sweets sent the boy hurtling at his mother’s legs. Not quite ready for the impact, the witch stumbled and her packages went flying.  
  
Without thinking, Harry drew his wand and cushioned the parcels before they hit the ground. Hermione gave her wand a wave and the boxes and bags zoomed into a neat pile.  
  
“Oh my goodness, thank you!” the mother panted in relief. She reached into her purse and handed a small, blue box to her groping son. He squealed in delight as he opened the box and the frog hopped onto his head. The witch looked up at Harry and Hermione, and her face flushed in embarrassment. “So helpful, thank you again. My husband is never going to believe me when I tell him who saved my shopping!” She gathered up her things and shooed the little boy up the street.   
  
Harry sighed and stashed his wand back in his pocket. “Where to first?” he asked, attempting to gloss over the incident.  
  
“How about we stock up on Potion’s ingredients?” Ginny suggested, taking Harry’s hand.  
  
As they approached the Apothecary, a glint of gold caught Harry’s eye from the window of the antique shop. “Can I meet you guys over at Scribbulus in fifteen minutes?” Harry said, slowing down, and letting the others pass him. “I just remembered something I want to do quick. Plus, I’m not really keen on subjecting myself to the Apothecary smell today.”  
  
“Want me to go with you?” Ginny asked, taking a step back towards Harry.  
  
“No, that’s okay. Go on and stock up your kit. I won’t be long,” he said with a smile, waving the others on. Once they had disappeared into the shop, Harry dashed back to the antique shop. He left several minutes later, stashing a small parcel in his pocket, and reached the stationary store just as the others walked up.  
  
“Everything alright?” Ginny asked, eyeing Harry suspiciously.  
  
“Of course,” Harry replied, holding the door open.   
  
After stocking up on quills and parchment, the four made their way to Flourish and Blotts. Off the Hogwarts’ required reading list, Harry got the assigned books for Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.  
  
“You really think there’s anything in that book that you don’t know?” Ron asked as Harry set the defense book to his pile.  
  
“Probably a good bit,” Harry answered. “Since recognizing and shutting down the dark arts is the main part of being an Auror, it’s best I’m well prepared in that area.”  
  
Ron nodded and set off for his Herbology book. Harry browsed around the shop and ended up adding an international sports book, Beyond Quidditch, and a book called Magic in North America. He was hoping to get a gist of what life would be like in Los Angeles so that he wouldn’t appear completely oblivious to his American classmates.  
  
They then proceeded to lug their books over to The Leaky Cauldron for a quick drink. Tom summoned up lemonade for them all and Harry pulled out Beyond Quidditch. He turned to the section on Quodpot and started reading.  
  
“I can’t believe Americans enjoy this,” Harry said in disbelief, placing the book on the table.   
  
“What, Quodpot?” Ginny inquired.  
  
“Yeah, it doesn’t seem anywhere near as exciting as Quidditch.” Harry pushed his book over so that the others could see the pitch diagram. “On one side, you have a pot full of neutralizing solution. The teams start at the other end and attempt to get a ball, called a Quod, down the pitch and into the pot, before it explodes in their face. If it explodes before they get it to the pot, the player holding the ball is out. they continue on like that till one side is completely out of players.”  
  
“Sounds like a sport Fred and George would invent,” Ron laughed.   
  
Hermione finished the last of her lemonade and exclaimed, “Oh, I forgot something back at Flourish and Blotts. Ron, can you come help me?”  
  
“Since when have you needed my help in a bookstore?” Ron asked.  
  
“It’s on a high shelf,” Hermione insisted, giving Ron an intense stare.  
  
“But they-“ Ron finally caught Hermione’s look and his eyes went wide. “Oh, yeah, of course. I can help you.” Ron jumped up and scampered out of the pub after her.   
  
“Subtle, those two,” Harry muttered, turning back to his book.  
  
“What do you mean?” Ginny asked.  
  
“Hermione doesn’t forget things. Bet you they’re off to find a dark corner to snog in.”  
  
“Hmm,” Ginny hummed in his ear, grabbing his knee. “Why didn’t we have that idea?”  
  
“Because my snogging is tomorrow’s front page news,” Harry groused.  
  
Ginny frowned and pulled her hand away. She silently sulked over the last of her lemonade as Harry obliviously read about Swivenhodge.   
  
Ron and Hermione returned ten minutes later, grinning and laughing. Ginny bolted up and said, “Hermione, I need to go to Madame Malkins’. Want to come along?”   
  
“Sure,” Hermione said slowly, shooting a confused look between Ginny and Harry.  
  
“I can go with you Gin,” Harry said, putting his book down.  
  
“No, I’m fine,” Ginny replied, irritably. She stormed out of the pub, Hermione close behind.  
  
“I’m just messing up left and right here lately,” Harry bemoaned.  
  
“What’s got her knickers in a twist suddenly?” Ron asked,  
  
“Search me. Ice cream?” Harry sighed, tossing his book back into the bag. “Maybe I can smooth things over with a sundae.”  
  
Ron and Harry trudged to Florean Fortescue’s and ordered four chocolate toffee sundaes. They then found a shady bench and waited for the girls outside of Madame Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.  
  
Harry looked up when the shop bell chimed. Hermione walked out first, giving Harry a pitiful look. Ginny soon followed, carrying her bags along with several robe boxes.  
  
“Trade you,” Harry offered, holding up the sundae. Ginny smiled, taking the ice cream, and handing over all her packages. “Thank you,” she said, and quickly kissed his cheek before gulping a spoonful of ice cream.   
  
They walked back to Wizarding Wheezes to say goodbye to George, before disapparating back to the Burrow.  
  
Back home, Ginny went to store her things in her room. Hermione grabbed Harry’s arm before he could go inside. “You remember telling me you had a lot to learn about the intricacies of relationships?” Hermione began. Harry nodded. “Lesson one, you’ve got to acknowledge that you have a girlfriend in public.”  
  
Harry puzzled over the statement for a minute before her words clicked into place.  
  
“Oh,” Harry said, finally catching onto why Ginny had been short with him in the pub. “I should go-“  
  
“Lesson two, no, you shouldn’t,” Hermione corrected. “Not every bump in the relationship needs to be rehashed and talked through. In this instance, actions speak louder than words. Also, don’t underestimate how much we’ll forgive when a cute guy offers us a cupful of chocolate,” she winked.  
  
“Noted,” Ron murmured.   
  
A few days later, Molly insisted on inviting guests over and throwing Harry a birthday dinner, much to Harry’s protests.  
  
“Honestly Mrs. Weasley, you really don’t need to go to all of the trouble,” Harry insisted that morning. He was sitting amongst a pile of the latest Wizarding Wheezes products from Ron and George, a No-Doze alarm clock from Hermione (not that he needed that at the moment), and several new pairs of jeans and shirts from Molly and Arthur.  
  
“Your other ones were really starting to look ragged, dear,” Molly explained as Harry had torn open her package. “I hope you don’t mind.”  
  
“Not at all, thank you,” Harry insisted, as Molly set a full English breakfast in front of him.   
  
That evening, the two picnic tables were enlarged, in order to play host to all of the Weasley family, Hermione, Andromeda and Teddy, Luna, Neville and his grandmother, and Kingsley. Molly pulled out all the stops on dinner- shepherd’s pie, roast lamb, Yorkshire pudding, roast, mashed, and jacket potatoes, peas and carrots, and roasted Brussel sprouts. Along with a two-tiered chocolate cake, there was sticky toffee pudding, scones, and treacle tart for dessert. They had just started to tuck in when they heard footsteps coming up the lane.  
  
’Sorry we’re late,” a gruff voice called.  
  
Harry squinted against the setting sun and saw the broad silhouette of Hagrid grow clearer, accompanied by Minerva McGonagall. Harry hurried down the path to welcome them both with a hug.  
  
“Nice to see you again, Potter,” McGonagall greeted, patting his back.  
  
“ ‘appy birthday Harry,” Hagrid said, thumping Harry on the shoulder. “Got ye’ sumthin’ special.” He held up a covered cage.  
  
“Oh wow, Hagrid, you didn’t have to do this,” Harry said, suddenly overwhelmed. He took the cage and carried it back to the table. When he lifted the cover, he found a beautiful tawny owl, slumbering on a perch. He replaced the cover and grinned at Hagrid. “She’s lovely, thank you so much.”  
  
Hagrid smiled warmly. “I know she’s not Hedwig, but I thought she might help keep ye’ comp’ny in the states.”  
  
It was a beautiful evening and Harry was soon thankful that Molly had insisted on the gathering of friends and family. He laughed, drank, and ate more than he could ever remember. When the sun said it’s final farewell, George set off a box of fireworks that lit up the night for a solid half hour. As the final spark fizzled out, the guests started to part ways. Neville and Luna assured Hermione that they would meet up with everyone at the dance club. Hagrid and McGonagall wished Harry the best of luck in America, making him promise to come to visit as soon as he returned.   
  
After helping clear the plates and returning the tables to normal size, Harry sluggishly made his way up to his room. He gently removed the cover from his owl’s cage and was heralded with a soft hoot.  
  
“Hey there,” Harry said, slowly outstretching his arm to her. With another hoot, she hopped from her perch to his forearm. Harry smiled and gently stroked her head.  
  
There was a knock on the door and Ginny peeked her head in. “Am I interrupting anything?” she asked.  
  
“No, come on in,” Harry invited.   
  
Ginny sat down on the bed, next to Harry, holding a package in her lap. “Does she have a name yet?” she asked, brushing a finger down the owl’s chest.  
  
“I haven’t been able to think of one all night,” Harry admitted. “What do you think?”  
  
“Oh no,” Ginny laughed, leaning away. “I’m the one who ended up naming Ron’s little ball of fury, and I still don’t think he’s forgiven me.”  
  
“Whatever you come up with is going to be better than her having no name at all.”  
  
Ginny tilted her head and looked thoughtfully at the speckled brown owl. “Athena,” she said finally, holding a finger out to the owl. The owl hooted and affectionately nipped Ginny’s finger.  
  
“We have a winner,” Harry concluded. He placed her back on the perch and opened the window, in case she wanted to go hunt. “There you go, Athena.”  
  
“Can I give you your gift now?” Ginny prodded, holding up her neatly wrapped present.  
  
“Everyone keeps insisting on giving me things today,” Harry sighed, jokingly.  
  
“That’s kind of how this birthday thing works,” Ginny said, forcing the gift into his hands.  
  
“Thank you,” he whispered, kissing her quickly before ripping off the paper. He unearthed a silver-framed picture of him and Ginny, napping in the hammock. The only movement was coming from the gentle swaying of the hammock and their hair fluttering in the breeze. Harry was amazed to see that his face was peaceful, with no trace of nightmares infesting his mind. Ginny was nestled with her head on his shoulder, his right arm holding her tight.  
  
“Where did this come from?” Harry asked, running his fingers across the glass.  
  
“Hermione snuck up on us one day and took it,” Ginny replied, tucking herself under his arm.   
  
“I sleep better with you by my side,” Harry murmured. He placed the picture on the nightstand, beside the alarm clock. “It’s perfect, thank you.” He pulled her face to his and kissed her.   
  
“Would you like me to stay a while and lie with you? Help you fall asleep?” Ginny suggested.  
  
“That sounds nice,” Harry agreed. He swapped out his polo shirt for a t-shirt, kicked off his jeans, and climbed into bed. He lifted up the quilt, inviting her in. Ginny shucked off her trousers and climbed under the quilt, snuggling up close to Harry.  
  
Harry wrapped the quilt around them and sighed. The last thing he remembered was kissing the top of her head.   
  
The following morning Harry was disoriented for a moment before realizing he had just had the best night sleep he’d had in over a year. Ginny stirred beside him and slowly opened her eyes, grinning sheepishly at him.   
  
“Good morning,” he mumbled, nuzzling her neck.  
  
“It is indeed,” she replied, craning her neck to look at the clock. Finally seeing the time, she swore and jumped out of bed. “Mum and dad will be up in five minutes. I don’t think they’d be pleased to see me sneaking out of your room.” She pulled her crumpled trousers back on, kissed Harry quickly and whispered, “See you at breakfast!” before moving swiftly out the door.  
  
And so it went for the next week. One of them would sneak into the other’s room after the house had turned in for the night, and then would slip out in the morning before anyone was else was up. Harry had never slept better. Listening to Ginny breathe, as he nodded off, was the comfort he had been searching for. It allowed him to empty his mind and finally banish the nightmares. Slowly, the shadows under his eyes started to disappear. Every now and then, the thought of losing this new found comfort, when he left for America, crept into his mind, but he wouldn’t let himself dwell on the thought long. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.  
  
Hermione and Ginny planned to spend the day in muggle London, the day before Ginny’s birthday.   
  
“Guys’ day Harry! What do you fancy we do?” Ron asked, that morning at breakfast.  
  
“I assume you both have outfits for tomorrow evening?” Hermione questioned, accusingly.  
  
“I’m sure I have something in my closet,” Ron answered, grabbing a slice of bacon.   
  
“No jeans,” Hermione threatened.  
  
“What’s wrong with jeans?” Harry cried.  
  
“We’re not going to a Quidditch match, we’re going someplace _nice_!” Ginny said, shooting Harry an exasperated look.   
  
Ron opened his mouth to protest, but Harry kicked him in the shin.  
  
“You’re right. We’ll head into London with you and go find something decent while you girls go do your thing,” Harry assured, smiling complacently at his best friend, and his girlfriend.  
  
Once they hit the streets of London, they bid the girls goodbye and watched them scurry off.  
  
“I don’t want to spend the day shopping,” Ron groaned.   
  
“Follow my lead and we’ll be playing Quidditch in an hour,” Harry reassured. He pointed to the nearest department store, Selfridges. “Let’s go!”  
  
Harry and Ron wound their way through the aisles to the men’s department. Harry beelined to the first stack of black dress trousers, pulled out a pair in each of their sizes. He then darted for a rack of black button-down shirts, again finding one in both their sizes. He handed Ron his outfit and concluded, “Now, just grab a vest you like and go check out.”  
  
“Bloody brilliant mate!” Ron declared, grinning.   
  
Ron chose a black and ivory striped vest. Harry settled on a hunter green vest that softly shimmered when the light hit it. After completing their purchase, they were back at the Burrow in time for lunch, a round of Quidditch, and several games of wizard chess, before Hermione and Ginny returned.   
  
The following morning, Harry awoke in Ginny’s bed and enjoyed the quiet moment, watching her sleep, before the alarm clock rang. She groaned and rolled over before the clock could wake her.   
  
“Happy birthday,” Harry chirped, kissing her quickly before pulling a small, wrapped box, from his rumpled jeans. He passed it to Ginny, who was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.  
  
“Thank you,” she yawned. She wasted no time ripping the paper off and lifting the lid. Ginny pulled a long golden chain, from the cotton bedding, and held it up. A small golden snitch dangled on the end. “It’s lovely, Harry,” she whispered.  
  
Harry gently took it from her, undid the clasp, and put it around Ginny’s neck. “You caught me,” he murmured, securing the clasp and pulling her hair back so that the pendant fell upon her chest. “I might struggle a bit, from time to time, but don’t let go.”  
  
“Never,” Ginny breathed. She pulled Harry on top of her and kissed him until he couldn’t think straight.   
  
When she finally released him, Harry laid there, twirling her hair around his finger, trying to steady his breathing. “I can’t believe we woke up so early,” he murmured.  
  
A look of horror overcame Ginny’s face and she shot up. Grabbing the clock, she hissed, “We didn’t! We forgot to set the alarm!”  
  
Harry groaned and covered his face with his hands. Ginny jumped up and threw on her robe and slippers.   
  
“I’ll go out first and check that the coast is clear,” she said, frantically pulling her hair into a ponytail. “If you hear a tap on the door, it means you’re safe to leave too.”  
  
“And if I don’t hear a tap?”   
  
“Then you’re on your own,” Ginny replied, shrugging her shoulders.  
  
“You’re cruel,” Harry sulked. Ginny nodded and slinked out of the room.  
  
Harry got up to pull on his jeans as she gently tapped the door. He swiftly opened the door and scooted into the hall. When he turned around, he was staring at Arthur, just coming down from the bathroom. Arthur’s eyes went wide and swept from Ginny to Harry, and back again.  
  
“Dad it’s not what-“Ginny said, hastily.  
  
Arthur held up his hand and shook his head. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, I saw nothing.” With that, he breezed past them and down to the kitchen.   
  
Ginny and Harry shared a worried look before setting off in different directions. Ginny to the kitchen, Harry to his room for fresh clothes. When he joined the other’s, Harry’s stomach did a flip-flop. Bill had dropped by to wish Ginny a happy birthday before heading to work.   
  
Trying to blend in with the crowd, Harry slipped into the seat beside Ginny. She was gushing over the new watch from her parents and showing off the necklace from Harry. Harry silently piled food onto his plate but shifted uneasily. Every now and then, Arthur would catch Harry or Ginny’s gaze and raise his eyebrow, suspiciously.  
  
“Arg, I can’t take it,” Ginny grumbled. “Mum, Harry and I have been sleeping together for the last week and a half. We aren’t doing anything, it just helps him sleep and not have nightmares,” Ginny abruptly blurted out.  
  
Bill started choking on his eggs and Ron burst out laughing. Molly stood dumbstruck, staring blankly at her daughter, while a pancake started to smoke on the griddle. Harry’s face started to burn as he tried to shrink into his seat. Meanwhile, Arthur sat reading the paper, chuckling softly as he sipped his tea.  
  
“Oh, I see,” Molly finally spluttered. She aimlessly vanished the charred pancake. “Do you want to talk about…woman…..things….”  
  
It was Ron’s turn to choke.  
  
“No!” Ginny yelped. “We’re good! Just thought you ought to know.”  
  
Molly nodded, weakly, and turned back to the griddle. Harry never ate a meal quicker than he did that morning.  
  
Hermione arrived in the early evening and barricaded herself, and Ginny, in Ginny’s bedroom to get ready. Ron and Harry lounged in the living room. Ron flipped through a Quidditch magazine and Harry read a few chapters in his defense textbook. At about quarter past six, they surrendered their reading material and went to change. They were waiting in the kitchen when the girls finally emerged.  
  
“Wow, you boys clean up nicely,” Hermione complimented, running her hand over Ron’s vest. “We need to go out more often.”   
  
“I’ll say we do,” Ron agreed, eyeing up Hermione’s strapless, silver dress. She had straightened her hair and then pulled it back into an elaborate, twisted ponytail.  
  
“You both look beautiful,” Harry remarked, pulling Ginny close. She had chosen a white dress, with capped sleeves, ballet flats, and the snitch necklace. Her hair was loosely pinned back, away from her face.   
  
“Let me get a picture before you set off,” Molly called, from the scullery. She wiped soap suds on her apron and pulled a camera from the china cupboard. “Big smiles!” The four of them huddled together and smiled at Molly. A puff of purple smoke left them coughing and wheezing. “Ok, you lot have fun. Be safe!”  
  
“We’ve booked rooms at the local inn, no need to wait up,” Hermione informed. “Don’t want anyone ruining a good night with a splinching.”  
  
They started to head for the back door when Ginny suddenly stopped. “I forgot my coat, give me just a minute,” she called, hurtling back up the steps. When she came back down, she was wearing a long coat, had taken the pins out of her hair, and switched the ballet flats for strappy, red sandals.  
  
“Why did you-“ Harry started.  
  
“Bye mum!” Ginny interrupted loudly, pushing Harry out the door.  
  
He took the hint and scurried out. Together they apparated to the high street in Wimbourne. The street was crowded with people finishing their day’s shopping and couples heading out for a late dinner. They spotted the club right away. A black brick building, with numerous lanterns enchanted to flash neon colors, touted an enormous sign for The Mugg Club. A few wizards milled about, outside the entrance, chatting and puffing on pipes.  
  
Hermione gave the doorman her name. He ushered them inside and directed them to the cloak check. Ron and Harry handed theirs over, stuffing the tickets in their pockets. Harry turned around to take Ginny’s coat and let his jaw drop, finally seeing the reason for the unusually long coat.  
  
She had completely changed from the white dress into a skin-tight red one, with a plunging neckline. The only piece of her original outfit left was the snitch pendent, gleaming on her chest.  
  
“I had to make sure mum saw me in the white dress first,” Ginny explained, passing her coat past a dumbstruck Harry, to the clerk. “This isn’t exactly a Molly Weasley approved dress.” She winked and pulled Harry towards the thumping music.  
  
“It’s not exactly a Ronald Weasley approved dress either,” Ron reprimanded.  
  
“Sod off Ron,” Ginny called, walking off to the dance floor.  
  
“Yeah, sod off Ron,” Harry echoed, trailing after her.   
  
The inside of the club was quaint and inviting. The circular dance floor took up most of the space, with booth style tables lining the perimeter. Every booth was upholstered in plush red velvet, with fairy lights bathing it in a soft glow. The dance floor was dark, except for the blinking fairy lights casting brilliant hues of every color, across the wood.  
  
Ginny squeezed her way into a clear spot and pulled Harry’s body into hers, as a hip-hop song started. She placed his hands on her hips, and then gently started swinging her hips back and forth.  
  
“The key to dancing is to just let the music guide you,” she instructed. “Start with your hips, and let it build with the tempo.” She slipped a hand onto his hip and one around his neck, guiding his body with hers.   
  
Harry attempted to keep the beat with Ginny. He pulled her closer, hoping that her natural grace would mask his lack of coordination. If he was a lost cause, she didn’t show it. Her gaze was locked with his, smile broad and genuine, and her body moved eloquently in time to the music.   
  
The fast tempo faded into a slow song and a few of the surrounding dancers cleared the floor.  
  
Harry enveloped Ginny’s waist with his arms and said, “This is more my speed.” Ginny laid her head on his chest and they drifted along, as a guy sang about wanting to stand with his girl on a mountain and bathe with her in the sea. Harry was just starting to agree with the song- he could, indeed, stay like this forever- when a smack on his shoulder brought him back to reality. He quickly turned around to find a grinning Seamus Finnigan.   
  
“Hey, Harry!” Seamus laughed, reaching out his hand. “Ginny!”  
  
“Seamus, good to see you!” Harry greeted, shaking Seamus’ hand.  
  
“Dean and I set up camp over there,” Seamus pointed to a large booth, beside the bar. Harry waved at Dean, who appeared to be brooding over his pint. “He’ll come around. Think he was just a bit shocked to come in and see you two together.”  
  
“Right,” Harry grimaced. He squeezed Ginny’s hand and said, “Why don’t you head over and I’ll get us all drinks. What do you fancy?”  
  
“Something fruity,” Ginny answered.  
  
“Thanks for narrowing that down,” Harry chuckled. “Seamus?”  
  
“I’m good, mate. See you in a mo’”  
  
Harry set off for the bar while Ginny followed Seamus to the table. At the bar he found Neville paying for a gin and tonic, and Luna sipping a glass of red wine. They exchanged hellos and Harry placed his drink order- a pint of lager for him, bitter for Ron, and two somethings fruity for Ginny and Hermione. Ron sidled up to Harry just as the bartender set the drinks down. Two tumblers were full of a dark purple liquid, over ice.  
  
“They’re called Jolly Ranchers,” the bartender answered Harry’s puzzled look. “Girls have been going batty over them.”  
  
Harry nodded and grabbed the Jolly Ranchers, while Ron took the beers to the table.  
  
“Ooh, what’s this?” Ginny said, excitedly eyeing the drink.  
  
“Something called a Jolly Rancher,” Harry answered, sliding into the booth beside her. He was pleasantly surprised to find an enchantment caused the sound of the music to soften in the confines of the table. Made it much easier to enjoy a conversation.  
  
“Oh, that’s the name of a muggle sweet,” Hermione explained. “Growing up with dentists though, they were a forbidden treat in my house.”  
  
“So Harry, Neville tells us you’re heading for America,” Seamus commented.  
  
“Yeah, I leave the fourth of September,” Harry replied. He started telling Seamus and Dean about the school. Ginny and Hermione quickly finished their drinks and set off again for the dance floor. Luna sat and watched for a while before getting up to go join them.  
  
“Oh Harry,” Luna’s lilting voice called. She turned around and started searching through her bag. “I almost forgot, I brought you a going away present.” She handed Harry a huge Dirigible plum, dangling from the end of a keychain. “That should be big enough to keep the American Nargles away.”  
  
“Er, are American Nargles much different from ours?” Harry asked skeptically.  
  
“They tend to be bigger and slower, so they stick around longer,” Luna explained simply, before joining the other two girls on the dance floor.  
  
Harry shook his head and stuffed the plum in his pocket. He and the others sat and watched the girls lose themselves in the music.  
  
“So, how exactly does one get jiggy?” Ron suddenly piped up. “And what exactly are you supposed to get jiggy with?”  
  
His question dissolved the table into a fit of laughter that caught the girl’s attention. Luna and Ginny pranced back to the table, while Hermione detoured to the bar. She returned to the table with more drinks for everyone.  
  
“After this drink, everyone is out on the dance floor,” Ginny declared, kicking her shoes off and downing half her drink in one sip.  
  
True to Ginny’s word, they were all pressured back into the center. A steady stream of upbeat, muggle music kept the dance floor hopping and Ron seemed to get more entertained with each song.  
  
“Harry, what the hell is a zigazig and why would someone want one?” he called during a particularly catchy song.   
  
Harry laughed and shrugged his shoulders, giving Ginny a quick twirl. He had given her method of dancing a try but quickly found that his body had no natural rhythm for the task. He had taken to shuffling his feet mildly and just letting Ginny dance around him.   
  
A solid hour passed before they made it back to the booth, laughing and trying to catch their breath. Ginny hurried off to get the next round, despite protests of not paying for drinks on her birthday.  
  
“This was a great suggestion, Hermione,” Harry gratefully acknowledged. “Thanks for urging us to come out.”  
  
“You’re all very welcome,” Hermione accepted, sipping the drink that suddenly appeared before her.  
  
The pulsing music suddenly faded into a slow song and Harry felt himself being pulled from the booth to a plea of “Dance with me.” Harry obliged and locked Ginny in a tight embrace  
  
“This has been a perfect night,” Harry murmured into her hair. “Sorry that I’m a rubbish dancer though.”  
  
Ginny playfully batted his arm. “I love you and your dancing,” she giggled, looking up at him. Harry smiled and kissed her. She quickly broke away, saying, “What about your snogging making front page news?”  
  
“Let them gossip,” Harry whispered, kissing her again and feeling his head rush as she leaned into him.  
  
By last call, Hermione and Ginny had had their fill of Jolly Ranchers and getting them into their jackets was like trying to wrestle with an octopus. Once he had Ginny secured in her coat, Harry said goodbye to the rest of this friends, promising to drop them a line when he had the chance. The inn Hermione had booked them into was only a two block walk, but this proved to be too big a task for Ginny. She stumbled through the first block, insisting she was “perfectly fine!”, before Harry swept her up and carried her the rest of the journey.   
  
In the room, Harry gently placed Ginny back on her feet and helped undo her coat buttons. Once her coat had been shucked, she wasted no time stripping off her dress and burrowing under the duvet.   
  
“Ooooh, make the room stop spinning,” she moaned, as Harry set his clothes on top of the dresser. He handed her a small, blue bottle that she drank greedily. “Mmm, the peppermint is nice,” she sighed.  
  
Harry climbed under the covers with her and brushed the hair from her eyes. “Hopefully that makes your morning a little easier.  
  
Ginny smiled drunkenly at him and placed her hand on his cheek. “You’re such a sweet, and thoughtful, and kind, and gorgeous boyfriend.”  
  
“Bah, that’s the alcohol talking,” Harry joked, tracing his fingers along the curve of her back. “I’m a horrible boyfriend that’s leaving you again, remember?”  
  
“Yes, but I know exactly where to find you this time,” she sighed happily, before drifting off to sleep.  
  
The next morning, a booming knock on the door jarred them awake. Ginny groaned and buried her head under the pillow.  
  
“What?” Harry yelled, wanting very much to curse whoever was on the other side.   
  
“It’s almost noon,” Ron called back. “The front desk clerk said if you’re not out in ten, he’s gonna Levicorpus your arse out!”  
  
“Got it,” Harry replied, slumping into his own pillow. “Come on Gin,” he coaxed, lifting up her pillow. “Time to face the day.”  
  
When they got down to the lobby, they were met by an irritated Ron and an amused Hermione. Ron tossed Harry the morning Prophet and instructed him to turn to page five.  
  
Harry flipped to the middle of the paper and found a picture of the kiss he and Ginny had shared in The Mugg Club.  
  
“Well, at least it’s not front page,” Harry conceded.  
  
Ginny bit her lip and shook her head. “Mum is definitely going to see the dress now.”


End file.
